


In the General's Bed

by nymph_L



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Story, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, England - 1815, Erotica, F/M, Married Couple, Napoleonic Wars, OOCness, Politics, Porn With Plot, Regency Era, Shameless Smut, Smut, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymph_L/pseuds/nymph_L
Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].





	1. To Love a General

**Author's Note:**

> Hi xD
> 
> As promised, here I am to post the first chapter of my newest Hux x Reader fanfic, In the General's Bed. This time, it's a Regency story, set in England, 1815. This fanfic is a gift to all my readers and Hux's lovers out there! 
> 
> Contrary to my other fic, Lie to Me, this one will be very explicit, so there won't be many chapters (and they'll be lengthier too) as I tend to find too many steamy scenes in longfics to be tiring and unnecessary xD. 
> 
> A brief reminder: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes you may find. Also, keep in mind I'm no British, so if you find any historical inaccuracies, please do tell me and I'll fix it asap! 
> 
> I hope you like it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi xD
> 
> As promised, here I am to post the first chapter of my newest Hux x Reader fanfic, In the General's Bed. This time, it's a Regency story, set in England, 1815. This fanfic is a gift to all my readers and Hux's lovers out there!
> 
> Contrary to my other fic, Lie to Me, this one will be very explicit, so there won't be many chapters (and they'll be lengthier too) as I tend to find too many steamy scenes in longfics to be tiring and unnecessary xD.
> 
> A brief reminder: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes you may find. Also, keep in mind I'm no British, so if you find any historical inaccuracies, please do tell me and I'll fix it asap!
> 
> I hope you like it!

_Southampton, 1815._

 

“MAMA...  _A HORSE_! IT’S A HORSE!”

A small smile crept to your lips at the boy’s excitement. He squirmed in your arms, trying excitedly to stand up on his bouncy legs and move away from you. That and the trotting sound getting closer and closer made you look up.

Definitely not the actions of a boy excited because of a drawing of his favorite animal in a lost paper in the middle of a children’s book.  

As soon as your eyes settled on the source of the boy’s happiness your own vanished.   

The smile died in your lips.

It was clear the boy was happy because he saw a real horse. And he simply loved horses. You were sure he would be a great rider — greater than his talented father — when his time comes.

With him still squirming in your hold — he had no idea how dangerous horses could be to a creature as small as himself —, you kneeled on the picnic blanket and glared at him. He was usually a very sweet and well-behaved boy, but he got too excited around huge animals.

“Behave, will you, little Lord?”

He pouted, and if he were any other child, he would have cried. But he was too damn stubborn to cry — just like his father. His big, round and chestnut eyes stared at you with some sort of resentment. He simply hated to be told what to do.

Contrary to most people, you were not affected by this and rose to your feet. Smoothening the fabric of your mousseline dress, you pursed your lips into a thin line.

The visitor — the horseman the boy heard — was not a welcome one, which was kind of ironic, considering he was your estranged husband.

“Stay here.”

“But—

“Lux, do I need to remind you I don’t like when you complain?”

His eyes were full of tears now. He did not cry, however. Too damn stubborn. Too sweet to upset you further with a whiny behavior. Biting your bottom lip — you regretted your tone; you were too harsh with him —, you ruffled his ginger hair and smiled reassuringly at him before stepping away and closer to the stranger entering the property.  

“I am sorry,  _Mama_.”

His apology went by unheard by you. Your heart was thundering in your chest and the now stronger breeze did not help your hearing in the least.

_Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe._

You told yourself you would be ready for this confrontation a hundred of times. Yet, as the years went by without a word from him, you grew sure he was as good as dead. He was, after all, at the War and people died at Wars. Even though skilled — a General, responsible for his own Battalion and held accountable for numberless victories for the Empire —, he could have fallen. The greatest warriors fell eventually, and Armitage Hux was but a man.

Turns out you were not ready.

You doubted you would ever be.

Feelings of resentment, anger, disappointment, abandonment all filled you, leaving you on the verge of tears. But just like the tiny boy you held in your arms seconds earlier, you were too stubborn to cry.

Biting the inside of your cheeks, you waited for him to dismount and look at you.

He didn’t.

Well, he did dismount his horse and held its reigns tightly in his left hand; the right removed the Wellington hat covering his neatly combed ginger hair before he bowed head towards you in a gentlemanly gesture.

“Lady Hux…”

You stood there, agape, for what seemed like hours.

He was different.

Very different from the man who left you so many years ago. Long gone were the beard and the shoulder-length red hair.

Albeit older now, he looked younger. And paler… and slimmer.

Realizing that you took too much time looking at him in eerie, awkward silence, you closed your eyes and mimicked his gesture. There was a lot you wanted to tell him and even more that you wanted to ask — why did he left without a word, why did he stay silent for five long years, why did he hate you so much? —, but you stopped yourself as you heard the sound of not only more horses trotting, but of a carriage approaching as well.

Of course, he was not alone. It was stupid of you to have thought so.

He arched one light eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer. Embarrassed for messing up the etiquette rules expected of you — a Marquise none the less —, you bowed dutifully.         

“My Lord... It has been…” You bit your bottom lip and kept looking down as etiquette demanded, even if you wanted to shoot him dead with your eyes alone. “A long time.”

“Indeed,” he replied; his voice calm. It was not needed to be a genius to know he was looking past you. If his curious intonation was of any indication…

Quicker than a lightening crossing the skies before a storm, Lux ran to you, hiding behind your legs. You could feel his small face against the fabric of your dress, his hand pulling it as he demanded silently to be held in your arms.

“Mama! Who is—  

“Lux, what did I—

“Lord Hux, it’s good to see you back and well.” A soft, but firm voice reached the three of you. The boy looked up at the familiar face and outstretched his arms. Rae Sloane did not get him in her arms, instead, she offered her hand and gestured towards the house. “Come along, Lux, it’s time for supper.”

If it was any other talking to him, he probably would have said  _I don’t want to_ in a whiny tone, but he never said  _no_  to Rae Sloane. Well, you doubted someone ever did. If there was someone the boy both feared and respected, she was certainly the one.

You smiled in spite of yourself.

Rae was not a mother, but she was gifted with children. She never raised her voice nor needed to act harshly; children respected her without any of these subterfuges. The same could not be said about you. As much as Lux loved you, he had a penchant for trying out your patience and defying you whenever he felt like doing it.

“Is he mine?”

His whispered voice dragged you back to the present moment. The smile, once again, died in your lips. You shifted your eyes and stared at him as the answer slipped past your mouth in an equal tone.

“No.”

You did not wait to watch his reaction before you headed to the house. You did not want to watch the judgment in his blue eyes before he even knew the truth. You left all that was taken to the picnic behind; the servants would take care of them as soon as possible.

Without casting a look over your shoulder to see if he was following you — he wasn’t —, you climbed the old wooden staircase with a weak resolve. Your heart was once again thundering in your chest and you were not so sure of the conversation that was to follow. The fact he expressed no loud reaction — always so composed and self-controlled — had you even more nervous.  

Soon, his firm steps echoed behind you. He seemed taken by your dry answer, but he did not prevent you from walking away from him and actually dictating where your first words — after five years of estrangement — should take place.

You chose the study and headed to where the whisky was stored. If you were to have this conversation — you knew how mad he would be once he knew the truth — you would rather have some alcohol involved.

He closed the door behind himself, one eyebrow arched as you swallowed the brown liquid in one big gulp.

You opened your mouth.

Nothing came out.

“Is he mine?” he asked once again. His tone was calm, his eyes cold. They betrayed nothing of what he truly felt. If he  _did_  feel something. Sometimes, he looked more machine than man. 

“No.”

It was your only answer.

Part of you wanted to tell nothing more. Part of you wanted — longed even — to toy with his feelings — did he feel anything at all? — and let him wait —  _five_   _fucking_   _years_  — for your answer. Part of you wanted to scream at him and ask why.

…Why no words…

…Why no missives…

…Why no visits…

And mostly, why only cold and sterile silence while you worried yourself to death over his life.

But part of you could not take it any longer.

You poured more whisky in your glass, but before you could bring it to your mouth, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. The glass fell to the floor, but neither of you paid it any attention. The loud crash was nothing compared to the sound of the blood pumping in your ears and your heart racing madly against your ribcage.

“Who is the father?”

His voice was getting impatient now. It was losing all traces of aloofness as he stared at you in the eye; his bluish orbs still cold but narrowed, which indicated at least a bit of annoyance.

The hurt, abandoned and betrayed wife — friend, he was your friend to begin with! Or so you considered yourself as such before he left without notice. It was clear to you he never thought of you too highly; being ten years older than you made him look at you in a condescending manner, and the fact that the two of you were locked in an arranged marriage only made matters worse. Still, you always thought you were able to get through him and understand a little better the man behind the military façade — in you made you wet your lips and raise your chin in defiance.

“Why?” You finally found your voice. “Are you mad?” You narrowed your eyes. “Jealous, Lord Hux?”

His fingers tightened around your arms, but not to the point of hurting you. He was always very self-conscious of his strength and never used it against you. In fact, he was a man who preferred manipulation over brutal violence. If he could make his enemies cower to the sound of his voice, he would. It did not mean, however, he would back down from a fight.

Skillful with both sword and gun, he never retreated from a battle, no matter how lost it seemed to him.

He tightened his jaw and let go of you. Walking around the room, he stopped closer to the decanter, but he did not move to pour himself a drink. His arms were behind his back as he considered his options carefully — considered what to say. When the next words left his lips, you almost choked.

“Lux, you said…” He was back turned to you. He was emotionless and if you did not know him well, you would have said the matter did not affect him in the least. “If I am to raise a bastard, I ought to know whose bastard I am raising.”

You gasped.

Suddenly, the fact he was bothered by the entire situation did not matter at all. You approached him in small steps, your hands reaching out to him and retracting at the same time.

“He is not mine either,” you whispered. He did not look at you, but the fact he had tilted his head to the left a little indicated he had heard you. Even so, you spoke again, “I am not his mother.”

If the General seemed more at ease after your attempt at reassurance, he did not let it show. With his back still facing you, he served himself some whisky and brought the glass to his lips. A scoff left him as he looked at you over his shoulders.      

“Brendol Hux would say it’s fitting…”

You furrowed your brows, not getting his meaning.

“It’s only natural that a bastard like myself would raise someone’s else bastard.”

You bit your bottom lip, now heavily regretting your silence. You should have said Lux was not yours when he first called you  _Mama._ You should have reprehended him like you usually did.

This was a sore topic for your husband. You knew it. You knew it better than anyone, having been his friend before you were his wife. Nonetheless, your feelings clouded your judgment. If you were to be honest with yourself, you would admit that his pain would bring you some joy.

You were not usually like this. You had been taught compassion and kindness were the best solutions to almost every situation, but you were only human, and you had reached your limits.   

“I already said I am not his mother.”

“Then, who is it?”

That was what you feared the most. It would be a greater blow to his pride to know you were currently not only hosting his rival’s son, but actually raising it, than the knowledge you had slept and had had a child with another man.  

“Lord Dameron.” You looked at your feet. “As in Poe Dameron…”  

There was silence for a moment.

If your blood was not pumping so fast in your ears, you would have heard him exhaling sharply; would have seen him squaring his shoulders and pursing his lips into a firm, thin line.     

“That does not explain the red hair.”

Your head moved so fast your vision went black for a moment. You took a moment to adjust to the sight of the study room around you before you spoke, “Well… It comes from his mother.” You were sure of his next question, so you got ahead of him and continued, “She died in childbirth.”

“The boy believes you are his mother.”

“He doesn’t.” The reply was quick in your lips. You looked down as you saw his dusty shoes approaching you. He stopped in front of you as you explained further, “He knows I am not his mother, however, he loves me as if I were.”

His fingers in your chin made you hold your breath.

“And you love him back.”

You pursed your lips, preventing you from telling him something he would not very much like to hear. In the past, you would not have hold yourself, but you knew the man from the past. This man in front of you? You had no idea who he was. He was no better than a stranger.

Some months were sufficient to change people, five years were more than enough to change someone completely and turn friends into enemies.

_Lovers into strangers._

“Should I not?” You stared at him right in the eye, not bothered in the least with the unreadable expression you saw in his bluish orbs.

He let go of your chin and stepped away. Not far to outstretch an arm, but distant enough give you an analytical look.     

“The boy should be with his father.”

You scoffed at him. Who was he to decide anything concerning the boy’s life?

“His father visits whenever he can, which is more than I can say about you.”

As soon as these words left you, you placed both hands over your mouth, horrified with your own bluntness. Part of you expected him to strike you — and you were already prepared for a busted lip or something like that —, part of you was sure he would never lean a finger on you.

You reasoned the old Armitage Hux — your friend, your lover — would not harm you under any circumstances, but you also knew this was not the same man from the past. This was your husband and you did not know your husband.

Instead of a slap, he assaulted you with his silence.

You fisted your hands and took a deep breath. Opening your eyes, you saw him walking towards the door.

He was leaving.

He was leaving you without a word.

_Again._

You could take anything but it.

“Five years…” you whispered, drawing his attention. “You could have visited.” _You could have written_ , you thought. You chewed your bottom lip, controlling the urge to cry. Never in your life you felt to exposed and so hurt. “Fuck, Armitage!” You felt the first tear rolling down your face. “You could have said you were leaving!”

His answer was quick this time. And so detached that putting a knife in your heart would have hurt less.

“It would change nothing.”

You dried your tears and turned your back to him. Looking at the windows, looking outside, usually helped you calming your nerves. That and alcohol, but you were already dizzy and you were not about to get drunk because of him. He  _would not_  have this much control over you. You told yourself you were emotional not because he was back after five long, silent years, but because you were nearing your period and that made your control over yourself slippery.

“How come?”

From your place, you heard him placing the glass over some flat surface and stepping closer to you. It made you straighten your back. He invaded your personal space and you held your breath. When his hands ghosted over your shoulders and arms, you felt your heart stopping for a moment before it raced like wild horses. His fingers traced your fisted hands, loosening your own fingers and entwining them together.    

“I would have to be gone anyways.” His voice was a mere whisper in your ear. His right hand moved from yours to your throat and then your chin, forcing you to stare at him.   

“I know…” you whispered back, staring right into his blue eyes. They had always been gateways to his soul in the past, when you were both younger, but now… Now, you could see nothing. There was a saying that War changed people and seeing him now… You could not say you disagreed with it. “But it would have changed everything for me.”

It would make you worry less, you could have added. And it would make you feel less dejected… Less abandoned. It would stop you from wondering if it were you who drove him away or if it were something none of you could have done something about.         

“You have always hated farewells.” His voice was even lower as he buried his nose in your hair. You sucked in a breath and leaned against him involuntarily. The tip of his nose moved from your locks to behind your ear and finally your neck. He planted a small kiss there.

Your nostrils flared. You inhaled the air,  _inhaled him._  Even if he had changed drastically, appearance and behavior, he still smelled the same.

“I have missed you, (Y/N).”

His lips pressed against a small part of your shoulders that was not covered. His tongue slithered past his mouth and tasted your skin.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You fought not to close your eyes and give in.

Five years was a long time to forget —  _to forgive_  — in five minutes and with some kisses. A flirty behavior and some whispered, sweet nothings in your ears would not change how hurt you felt for half a decade.   

“I hate to be left in the dark even more,” you finally found your voice. Your shaky legs forced you away from him as you walked further closer to the windows. He took a step towards you and you flinched. “Stay away from me.”

If he was displeased with your behavior, he did not show it. He seemed more like resigned. He took a few steps back and suddenly, you heard the door cracking open. It was not needed to look at him to know he was leaving you alone.

You fought the need to tell him he was not dismissed, as you could have done considering your social position above him. Granted, he was your husband and even though he held no nobiliary title, society deemed him above you and besides your rightful owner.

Gritting your teeth at that, you remained with your head held high, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you in such state of distress. When you did not hear the door closing, you looked at him over your shoulder. He wetted his lips and when your eyes clashed together, he finally spoke; the venomous words making you hate the day you had first met him.   

“When you are done feeling sorry for yourself and behaving like a spoiled child, we can have this conversation.”

*******

“Sleep tight, Lux.” You kissed his brow and adjusted the blankets over his chest. It was crystal clear he was quite sleepy, but he fought it with every fiber of his being and kept his chestnut eyes wide open. “I will see you tomorrow.”

He yawned and involuntarily his lids fluttered closed.

You tapped his little nose before leaving the room. You felt your heart race when you met with the straight face of Rae Sloane. She had a knowing aura all around her and you could not help but gulp.

“I am giving you no details,” you lost no time to say. Keeping your hands at your back, you walked towards the stairs, towards the dining room and ultimately, towards your husband.

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing. It was clear she already knew everything from your refusal to share a single information. You huffed in despair. Sometimes you hated this woman to guts. Her quick-witted mind and analytical abilities usually — always — left you entirely at her mercy.

“Are you having dinner with us?” you asked, looking at her out of the corner of your eyes.

“Do you want me to?” she answered with another question. Her straight face gave away nothing, but you have lived for long five years with her to know when she was having fun at someone’s expenses.  _At your expenses_.

“I’ve never known you to ask rhetorical questions, Rae.”

She shrugged, her hands placed behind her back. She behaved just like Hux, which annoyed you to no end. Or he did behave like her, considering she was the one to raise him and teach everything he knew…

You opened your mouth, but she bet you to your game and shook her head. In fact, you would have said she glared at you, her dark eyes hiding nothing of her disapproval.

“Why not?”

She raised her brows as if it was difficult for her to believe you.

“You are his wife; your marital problems are none of my business, my Lady.”

“But…” You closed your mouth. She _had_ to help you. “You know him better than anyone.” You stopped on your way to the dining room and held her hands between yours. She was not a woman who enjoyed physical contact that much, but she learned over the years not to push you away. “Rae, you raised him! If there is someone who knows him—

She patted your hands between hers reassuringly. She never did that, and when she did, it meant that the content of her words would not be what you wanted to hear at all.

“Time changes people, (Y/N)… Being in a War zone for five years changes them forever.”

You swallowed.

She was right. You knew that. She knew what she talked about. This War… she had seen it close by. She had been engaged in it. For as much as Wars were forbidden territory for women, there was always a Rae Sloane out there who defied everyone and everything to act by her beliefs.

“He could have come back...” You whispered, barely acknowledging defeat. “Lord Dameron comes back from time to time.”

She snorted.

“Can you even hear yourself?” Her tone was edgy; she had no qualms putting you in your place. “Lord Dameron is not a general. There were not thousands of lives hanging on his shoulders, even if that cocky brat would like to believe otherwise.”

This time, along with saliva, you had to swallow your pride.

“Now, let’s eat.” She gave you her back and started making her way towards the dining room. “If I have to endure your whiny and his sulky company, I would like to do that with warm food and good wine.”

*******

Dinner time was ridiculously silent. The two of you stared at your own plates and Rae took her time analyzing you both. It was clear to you she was taking her sweet time and getting every bit of information she could about you and your relationship.

What was not clear as of yet was if she would play on your team or his… Given their proximity, you would say she would stand by him, but… She had lived with you for five years and you would like to believe the two of you formed a bond during this time.

However, Rae Sloane was a clever woman and she never did anything without considering all variables. If she was to team up with him, she would have good reasons to do so. It does not mean you would take it lightly. A betrayal was a betrayal after all.

You chewed your bottom lip and stared at her. She was thoroughly focused on your husband and when you looked at him, you noticed he was staring at you. His impossibly blue eyes completely on you.

A shiver ran down your spine.     

In the past, you would have died for his attention — whatever bits of it he decided to give you; you would even beg for it and put yourself in all kinds of situations just to be the sun in his life — but now… It did not make you feel any comfortable.

Not for the first time, you had to agree with Rae. Five years, indeed, changed people. The man to your left, regarding you with some sort of… curiosity and renewed interest that you could not quite decipher was not the man you knew; the friend you worshiped.

As time went by — and after the third glass of wine — you were openly staring back at him and the fact that Rae could side with him did not bother you that much anymore. You were barely aware of the fact she was watching you both.

He was…  _different._

Very different.

There was no other way to put it. Before — before he left for the War —, he had a thick ginger beard and shoulder length-hair you loved to run your fingers through. You still recalled how it was to kiss him, when the two of you were merely engaged and hiding from your strict father, and entangle your fingers in his locks and later how he would brush his lips — and his beard — along your neck and shoulders. Always a sucker for the rules, he never went beyond kisses and a few bolder caresses that never put you in a compromising situation.

There was no beard now and no long hair for you to entangle your fingers in. His pristine appearance made him look even more distant and unreachable. _Cold._

However, what stood out the most were his eyes. His bluish eyes were so icy now. Calculative. There was no warmth left in them — now, that was not a word that you would usually associate to him, but even if a rare occasion, you had seen him looking at Rae Sloane with some affection in the past —, no fondness whatsoever.

Yet, that did not make him less attractive. He exuded power from his very pores. His movements were not missed by you, as you analyzed every inch of him. It was with some surprise that you realized that you were staring at his long fingers around his wine goblet and actually imagining how it would feel to have them running over your skin in a sensuous caress.

You shivered…

…and busied yourself with your own goblet. You drank every last drop of your wine and gesticulated for the footman to serve you with some more. You almost chocked when you noticed that you were alone with your husband.

Rae was long gone, and you did not see her leaving. The servants were also out of sight.

In silence, he rose to his feet and outstretched his hand to you. With your brows furrowed, you were not sure if you should accept his gesture or not. His words still stung; part of you was not ready to forgive him for that either.

However, a small, rational part of you, knew that if the two of you were to reach an understanding you would have to let go of your grudges and listen to him — at least try to.

If those five years were hard for you, you could only imagine what it was for him.

“I am sorry…” You bit your bottom lip. “I am sorry for my reaction earlier. My behavior was… inexcusable.”

He did not say anything, not to agree nor to disagree with you. You thought that it was to be expected. He was never a man fond of small talk, you reasoned that he would not start taking a liking to it now.

With a defeated sigh, you placed your hand on his and let him pull you to your feet. This time, when his face came closer and his nose touched yours, you did nothing to stop him.

“All these years…” he started, his voice low; his breath caressing your face. He brought his left hand to your chin and held you in place, forcing you to stare at him. His eyes were still distant… still  _unreadable._  “There was never a day that I haven’t thought of you.”

Your heart raced at his words — that was closer as you would get to an apology for not having contacted you —; you felt conflicted. Part of you wanted to pull away, the other half wanted to pull him closer. His eyes were focused on your lips, and you found yourself closing your lids and acting by instinct.

Not very sure where to put your hands, you grabbed the lapels of his navy-blue tailcoat and pulled him down. He was taller than you and you had to stand on your toes to reach his full lips.

A moan left you as your lips met. A small caress. A mere brush. But after five years away from his touch, you were starved, and the very feel of him against you was enough set you on edge. His hands were stationed at your waist, pressing you against him, leaving no space between your bodies. His tongue caressed your bottom lip, seeking entrance, which you gladly conceded.

From there, you were not sure who dominated the kiss — if you or him, it did not matter, it was pleasurable both ways. He probably did, for he was a sucker for control. Your fingers brushed against his chin, before they entangled on his short, pristine hair. You almost chuckled in his mouth when he grabbed both of your wrists with one of his hands and moved them away from him.

He parted from you, his eyes intensely focused on your face. This time, you did not look away as expected from you, but you were about to bit your bottom lip when you felt his thumb caressing it earnestly. His right hand moved from your waist upwards, forcing you to suck in a breath. Your tongue brushed against his finger and his eyes darkened a bit.

“I have thought of you as well…” you admitted, your breath coming out in short gasps, “every single day… every waking hour. I was worried sick when you never came back.” He stopped caressing your bottom lip and tried to step away. You held him by his wrist. “Why haven’t you come back, Armitage?”

Instead of giving you a straight answer, he crashed his lips against yours in an overpowering kiss. He backed you against the dining table and smothered any thought of complaints. You kissed him back, surprised at how much intensity he could print into such gesture. With a gasp of surprise, you broke away from him when you felt his fingers tracing the line of your shoulders. His mouth quickly assaulted your exposed skin, covering the same ground his fingers just had covered a little bit earlier. 

“I want you,” he whispered before bestowing your earlobe with a kiss. His voice was husky.  _Needy._  It sent a jolt to your core. “I want you now.”

“Here?” you whispered back, fighting the wave of arousal that washed over you. It made you shudder. You bit your bottom lip and tried to think rationally. “Someone can see us.”

He paid you no attention as he sent all the tableware to the floor and forced you to sit over the wooden table. With his fingers entangled in your hair, he quickly removed the pearly clips your lady’s maid had put there before, letting your locks fall on your shoulders and back. You expected him to assault your mouth once again, but instead he buried his nose in your hair.      

“Yes, here.” His voice was still husky; his hands and yours — you quickly noticed — worked on his tailcoat, removing it. The pearly cravat and the waistcoat trailed their way to the floor as well. “I want you now, here… And I don’t give a damn if anyone sees us.”

His admission and the passion that emanated from him were enough to make you pull him down by his hair and force him into a kiss. You ran your fingers through his still clothed chest, working on the buttons on the way.

He shuddered under your touch.

Your mouth was busy with his when you realized his hand was inside your evening dress, smoothing the fabric of your chemise and hiking it to your thighs. His lips trailed your neck again and moved down, towards your exposed clavicle and the contour of your breasts.

_Dammit._

You drew in a sharp breath.

This was going all too fast.

You could feel him everywhere. His smooth face — devoid of the beard you loved so much — against your chest as his tongue traced your nipples through the fabrics of your chemise and evening dress; his left hand on your waist holding you in place and the right inside your clothes, reaching to your most private area.

A long and delighted moan left your lips when his mouth enclosed around your hard nipple and his finger touched your neglected — starved for his attention,  _and for so many years_ , really — clit and rubbed it through the undergarments slowly, as if showing how he would make love to you.

His touches were very… precise and thought-out. Even if he was passionate — more than you could remember —, _intense,_ there was a part missing. His soul, his  _heart_ , was not in it.

And no matter how much needy you felt — famished and denied of his utter devotion and worship —, you were not blind not to see he was not totally into the act. Not the part of him you wanted — needed — the most.

This was all too much.

“S-Stop,” you muttered between short gasps. “I-I c… I can’t.”

He removed his mouth from your breasts and moved it closer to your own; his fingers, however, did not stop in their ministration, at least not until he had you withering under his touch.

You closed your eyes.

And your brain barely registered he had managed to somehow remove your undergarments and had inserted two of his fingers inside you, reaching as far as possible; his thumb sweetly pressed against your clit.

Your hands were on his arms, the nails digging deeply into his skin as he brought you to an earth-shattering orgasm. This time, he disobeyed your order and took your lips in an overwhelming kiss, smothering your moans.

He never stopped his caresses, not until you rode your orgasm fully. His tongue inside your mouth dominated you, indicating that besides making love slowly to you, he would take you fast and hard as well… It made you clench a bit more around his fingers, the wetness making it easier for him to keep scissoring you.

As soon as you came down from your high, you opened your eyes and stared at him, your bottom lip swollen and castigated. He removed his fingers from you and brought them to his lips, licking the traces of your orgasm clean.

“I was not ready for it,” you started out of breath.

Well, that was debatable.

You shook your head. Your body was more than ready for it — would it ever deny you any of the countless pleasures he could offer you? —, but your heart was not.

Not while you did not know if he was totally into it. And not only body. You needed body, mind,  _soul._   

“You needed it,” he replied, tracing your bottom lip slowly. You could almost taste yourself. “Don’t deny me…” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. “Don’t deny yourself, (Y/N).”

The way he spoke your name had you shuddering.

Somehow, you managed to find some strength in yourself and pushed him by his shoulders.

“No.”

He furrowed his brows.

“No.” Your voice was firm this time. “Not until I know why you never came back. It’s…” You bit your bottom lip, you wanted to cry. You always became a bit oversensitive after an orgasm and he knew it. “It’s killing me!”

He narrowed his eyes at you and moved away.

Long gone was the passionate man whose blue eyes promised to worship your body throughout the night; the man whose whispers admitted so openly to need you.

His back was facing you.

He had squared his shoulders.

But his silence remained.

No word left his lips. No words would.

“I was worried sick you had died… For months I…” You bit your bottom lip, you were about to cry and it ashamed you that you were about to admit how you were devastated that he had left without notice, but you had to make him understand how miserable your life had been all these years. He had to know! “For months I cried without knowing. Were you alive? Were you dead? Were you badly injured?”

You climbed down the table and smoothed the skirts of your dress.

“And then I started receiving offers for a second marriage. My father was gone— Your throat closed at the unwanted memory. Your eyes were glued to the floor, if you looked up you would have seen the somber look in his own blue orbs. “And I was the sole heir to his title and his lands… Every dandy said the love of my life was gone and I should secure my position through a new and beneficial marriage.”

He had no words when you were done.

“Did you hear me?”

He remained silent.

“Did you hear me, Armitage?”

He looked at you over his shoulders. His lips were drawn into a tight line.

“Love… such a meaningless word.”

Your eyes widened at his choice of vocabulary. Your heart stopped for a moment and your throat constricted.

“Do you love me?” he asked, and you noticed all too late he was invading your personal space. He touched your chin and tilted your head slightly back, forcing you to look at him.

You bit your bottom lip.

Before you could answer, he continued. His words low and sharp enough to crush your heart completely.

“Marriage is not about love, (Y/N). You should know that by now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all for today, kids!
> 
> Well, that was quite a long chapter, I hope you didn't find it tiring. Because of the length, I don't know if I'll be able to update weekly, but at least twice a week you'll see my updates!
> 
> I don't have much to say about this chapter, except that there'll be a lot to explain in later chapters, for now, it suffices to say Hux and Reader have a very strained relationship and that Hux needs an heir.
> 
> Ah, about Reader's age... If any reader out there is older than Hux (34/35 years old), I'm sorry, but for the sake of historical authenticity and for plot related reasons, I made Reader 10 years younger than him. It's not much, if you consider that most arranged marriages at that time, the husband was sometimes 20 years (or more) older than his wife. And about Reader's hair... Also, as it was uncommon for women back then to have short hair... I decided to make it longer (how long, color, texture and other characteristics, is up to your imagination), I myself have short hair... so...
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> Stay tuned, tomorrow there'll be an update for Lie to Me!


	2. To outsmart a General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my lovelies! xD
> 
> Welcome to the second installment of In the General's Bed!
> 
> Thank you very much for all your kudos (41, I didn't expect so many! It's way more than Lie to Me got in his first chapter) bookmarks and reviews (Venix, Trelaney, GoldTrimmedSpectacles) you guys made my day with your words and also thank you fullbouquetfowonderland for your kind words on tumblr. This chapter is dedicated to all four of you! 
> 
> I've just finished this chapter, so... it'll probably have some mistakes! I intend on fixing them this weekend.   
> Happy reading!

_“THERE WAS ONCE A YOUNG SHEPHERD BOY WHO TENDED HIS SHEEP AT THE FOOT OF A MOUNTAIN NEAR A DARK FOREST. IT WAS…”_

You adjusted Lux in your arms and kept on reading. It was raining, and your usual picnic and games outdoors had to be postponed. He complained, whined a bit, as expected, but complied shortly after you offered him a cookie and allowed him to lean against you as you read a book to him.

Smart as he was, he grimaced as you went further in your reading. Obviously, he understood why you choose “The boy who cried wolf” by Aesop. He took one of your locks and twirled it in his still chubby fingers. You knew he was upset, but you did not stop for a moment.

“…and when the boy complained, the wise man of the village said: _‘A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth_ ’.”

The two of you stood a moment in silence, you placed your chin over his head and kissed his hair lovingly.

“Did you get why I chose this fable, Lux?”

He shook his head.

“But you do,” you replied in a soft voice.

He continued with your strand of hair firmly around his finger and closed his eyes; if you did not know him well, you would tell he was asleep.

“I lied once,” he said, letting go of your hair and shifting in your arms to face you. “And I want to play outside!”

He was pouting, chubby arms folded at his chest. It took all you had not to laugh. _He was so cute like that!_ You pursed your lips into a thin line and arched your brows.

“It’s no excuse, little Lord!” And before he could say anything else, you gestured with your hand, indicating there was still more to come, “and it’s raining outside, what do we do in raining days?”

“Stay here,” he replied begrudgingly.

He was still pouting. It was so difficult resisting him when he was such a cute little lord.

“Exactly, we stay indoors. Now, what do I want to hear?”

He was on the verge of tears, but you knew he would not cry. He bit his lips and his chin quivered; his eyes were cast down, focused on his feet. You brushed your fingers against his cheeks and forced him to look at you.

“Now, Lux, there’s no need to cry.”

“I am not crying.”

Stubborn and proud.

You kneeled in front of him and held his tiny hands between yours. You shook your head and gave him a reassuring smile.

“There is no need to hide your tears from me, little Lord.”

“Grown-up boys don’t cry.”

You arched one brow and pursed your lips. He would be very pissed off if you laughed right now…

…But the need was so overwhelming you had to bring the book to cover your face and look sideways.

It did not ease the need to laugh that much, but at least you could face him with a more serious expression. Your eyes softened as you brushed a tear on his cheeks.

“Now, seriously, Lux…” you started, keeping him away; you wanted him to face you as you said the next words, “who told you boys don’t cry? Grown-ups or not?”

He did not give you a reply.

You shook your head and bestowed him with a brief kiss on the nose. You did not let him cling to you. Dinner time was approaching, and you still had to get changed — with a guest. An acquaintance of Hux. If you were not mistaken, he was called Agent Terex. You sighed. It would be a boring night of politics and men trying to make you look like a fool because you did not understand a bunch of what they talked about. 

Well, it was better having a guest than having dinner alone with him. A shiver ran down your spine as you recalled how it ended last night. You were not sure you were read at all for it.

“Let’s go. I am sure you are eager to tell Lady Rae what you have learned today.”

He stopped immediately on his tracks and looked down. Even if his ginger locks feel on his face, shadowing his expression, you could still see him pouting.

“Please don’t tell Lady Rae.”

“She’s going to be…” you stopped mid-sentence. You had to give him reassuring words. “ _Nice_ with you.”

You knew that Rae Sloane did not take a lie so lightly; he was on her black list from now on — and certainly for forever.

If Rae could scare the hell out of you, you could only imagine how frightening she could be to a child.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be later.”

“Can I just hide today?”

“And lie again?” You shook your head and pulled him by the hand towards the exit of the winter garden. “Not gonna happen, little Lord. Besides, she won’t let you get off that easily.”

He pouted.

“You are not going to convince me with this face.”

“What face?” he asked back, chestnut eyes wide open with curiosity. The two of you stopped in front of a shiny surface. You moved behind him and squeezed his cheeks. He grimaced.

“This crying face.”

The expression staring back at you through the mirrored surface was one of barely concealed anger.

_He was so cute._

“Boys don’t cry. Only girls like you cry.”

“I don’t cry, little Lord!” you replied; hands covering your mouth in an expression of both surprise and offense.

He removed his hands from yours and folded them at his chest.

“I saw you crying the night the Lord in the horse got here.”

Oh.

Oh…

_Oh!_

That explained why he pretended to be sick for two nights in a row… He did that, so you could avoid sleeping next to your husband — or even getting near him, since you spent every waking hour by his side.   While you appreciated the gesture — you did not want to share the same bed with the General even if your life depended on it —, you knew that Lux put the both of you in a difficult situation.

“Oh, Lux…”

“You were crying because of him, _mama?_ ”

Although his intonation was that of a question, he knew what he was talking about. Otherwise, he would not pretend a sickness he did not have, he would not risk getting caught…

“What did I say about calling me _Mama_?”

He pouted.

“I hate him.”

You shook your head. Thankfully, he would change his opinion soon. It is, if he saw you crying because of the General again he wouldn’t…

“Now, let’s go. I’m sure Rae is dying to meet you.”

He groaned in response.

“She will kill me.”

“She won’t kill you,” you replied as you opened the door. You were not looking up, or you would have seen both subjects of your conversation a few seconds earlier.  

“Oh hello, Lux.”

Quicker than ever, he hid behind your legs, his face completely pressed against the folds of your blue dress.

“She can still see you, Lux,” you whispered to him, a hand pressed gently against his ginger hair. “I promise you she will do you no harm.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, my Lady,” Rae replied, a sinister smile gracing her lips. You were not sure if the one gulping was you or Lux. Her expression was one of _killing you would be the merciful course of action._ “Now, come along, Lux, we have a lot to talk about.”

He looked at you and only let go of your dress when you nodded. For as much as Rae could be frightening, she meant no real harm. And although Lux addressed you as his mother, she was the one to take such a role since the very beginning. He placed his small hand between hers and the two of them trailed the corridors, leaving you and the General behind.

Not really sure of what to say to him — would a mere _hello_ do? — you started following them, but stopped on your tracks when his commanding voice reached you.

“I did not give you permission to leave.”

***

You took a deep breath when he closed the door of the winter garden behind himself and motioned for you to sit. You did so, choosing the loveseat so he could not get near you.

After a few seconds passed by in silence — you thought them as hours; to be in his company for even a minute seemed like torture —, you cast an unsure glance at him, only to find him holding the book in his hands, a bored expression on his face.

You sighed.

He was so difficult to read. It is, except if he felt disgusted. That was an expression he did nothing to conceal. And at the very moment he did not seem very pleased with you.  

“Is that how you intend on punishing him for his mistakes?”

You sighed again. How were you supposed to tell him that punishing a child not necessarily taught them anything besides fear and resentment?

 _Hate._  

A feeling that he seemed well acquainted with.

_Love… such a meaningless word._

Funny, because hate was so meaningful to him. And love and hate, although not direct opposites had such a thin line separating them…

Noticing that he was expecting you to say something, you shook your head and concentrated on the topic at hand. It would change nothing to mull over his affections — or lack thereof — for you.   

“Believe it or not, it’s a very effective way to teach children wrong from right, my Lord.”

He kept his words to himself and closed the book, handing it back to you. Carefully, you reached out for it, not very keen on having any sort of physical contact with him.

A gasp left you when he enclosed both hands around your wrists and pulled you towards him. His nose was almost brushing yours and his breathing was so mixed with yours it was difficult to distinguish them.

“The boy needs to learn discipline.”

His eyes were narrowed, you could tell he was very displeased with the disarray Lux caused for the last two days. At first, pretending to have a strong stomachache, then complaining his throat was sore. It was all gone to waste as soon as Hux called a physician he trusted — for he did seem to think both you and Rae would ask for some healer nearby to lie, so the boy would get off the hook — and had the boy examined.

The verdict was quick and clear: his health was top notch. If any part of Lux was sick, it must be his tongue, filled with the poison of his lies.

“You are too soft on him.”

“He knows he did wrong.” You agreed with the General. Most of times you were too soft on Lux, but he was the one being too harsh with a four-year-old boy. “He even apologized.”

His nostrils flared.

Sometimes, you even thought that he could smell it when you lied. And probably, he had heard part of your conversation with Lux. Did he hear the boy saying he hated him?

_Oh, crap!_

“He won’t learn discipline if he is not punished.”

You shifted your wrists between his hands, forcing him to loosen his grip around you. You stepped away, indignantly.

“Is that how you intend on raising our children?”

Silence.

He gave you his back and walked towards the windows. It was still raining heavily outside and from the way in which thunders and lightening crossed the grayish sky, it was obvious it would not stop any sooner.

Funny, because the weather mimicked your feelings right now. You were furious, just like the tempest castigating the green scenery outside.  

You braced the book, inhaling the scent of old paper to calm yourself. It was infuriating how he could make you lose your composure so quickly.

The man from the past — the man you loved, worshiped and adored — never stirred such feelings in you. In fact, besides the butterflies dancing in your stomach whenever he got too close or stole a kiss, you could not remember ever getting mad at him before.

When his answer came, it left you boiling with rage.   

“How I intend on raising _my heir_ is none of your business.”

You took a moment to reply. He would _not_ make you raise your voice. You were better than that. You were a respectable Marquise, for God’s sake!

“Then I am giving you no _heir_ whatsoever.”

“Excuse me?” He looked at you over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes did nothing to hide how offended he was.  

You turned on your heels and headed for the door. You would not stay in the same room as his. You still had to get ready for that damned dinner of his and he would absolutely not ruin your night with his horrible, grumpy humor.

Not even daring to look at him, you replied; your lips tilted upwards in a victorious smirk.

“It’s exactly what you heard, my Lord. I will never lay with you again. Meaning, I’m not opening my legs to you… _ever.”_

*******

You expected him to be dinner to be a boring event — if boring was a word that could be used to classify any event in the company of Rae Sloane — with Agent Terex as a guest.

And it was, for the first half hour. The four of you were in silence and you wondered why your husband offered the man the courtesy of a dinner if he would not engage in any sort of conversation. It was clear he lacked the proper etiquette to be sitting near you — and while you had no complains about how he drank his wine or ate his meat, you did have a problem with his wandering eyes.

Not for the first time you saw yourself sticking your fork to his grayish orbs. If not for Rae Sloane’s hand placed over your thigh under the table, you would have acted on your wishes.  

Again, why did Hux ask such indecorous, disgusting old man to have dinner with you?

For God’s sake, he was old enough to be your father! 

“Tell me again, Agent Terex…” Rae started, bringing her goblet to her lips. You mimicked her, but regretted it shortly after, you almost spilled all of its content on the man’s face. And that was the problem with round tables, everyone could easily see each other. “Tell us that story in which you fell from your horse in front of His Grace, the Duke of Wellington.”

You brought your napkin to your mouth; you certainly did not want to get caught laughing in the man’s face. Rae had no such qualms. She laughed a little and then busied herself with more of her wine. Slowly, when you were sure you would not burst into laughter, you looked at Lord Terex and then at your husband. Lord Hux had the telltales of a smirk; his lips were slightly tilted upwards.

It did not go unnoticed by Lord Terex. His eyes were now narrowed, his face a bit flushed with embarrassment and… _anger?_

Certainly, a man of his mien knew how good it was to laugh at himself…

_…Or not._

“I heard you plan on being appointed by the King himself as Prime Minister, Lord Hux.”

Silence.

There was only silence for a moment as you looked at Armitage, waiting for his answer. He cleaned the sides of his mouth slowly, as if there was nothing of his concern in the world.

You looked at Rae.

By her blank and calm expression, you realized she already knew it. Of course she did. Of course he would tell her of his plans before he even thought about telling you.

_Typical._

“You heard correctly, Agent Terex.” His voice was calm, toneless. He brought his goblet to his lips and sipped the wine unhurriedly. His icy eyes focused on you.

He sure did expect you to react like the spoiled child he said you were just yesterday.

You bit your bottom lip, controlling your urges to call him on his act. However great the impulse was, you knew that was not the time to demand explanations. Your marital problems were none of Agent Terex’s business.

Besides, it was obvious he was doing it deliberately. He _wanted_ to create a rift between you.

You snorted.

As if he could…

As if there wasn’t a huge rift already between the two of you.

As if his silence for five _fucking_ years did not do it already.

As if his behavior two nights prior and his heartless words did not expand this rift further.  

You drank your wine and smiled sweetly at your _hateful_ guest.

“In fact,” you started, placing your goblet back on the table. “we are moving back to London by the end of this week.” Hux was looking at you, his eyes showed a hint of… _admiration?_ You shook such thoughts away and concentrated on the task at hand. “My husband can’t be appointed as Prime Minister if he isn’t around the King or even living in the Ton, don’t you think?”

“I guess not…” Agent Terex replied, his lips curved in a smirk. He even opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by your husband.

Hux cleared his throat, indicating that dinner was over. As soon as you rose to your feet, the butler approached the door leading to the drawing room and opened it for you and Rae.

“A clever little thing she is…”

You cast a glance of your shoulder at Hux, only to find his eyes on you as he replied.

“Indeed, she is.”

Part of you thought that the glint in his bluish orbs was one of admiration, but the other part was still mad at him for his behavior earlier — and a few days prior — to give it — to give him — any credit.

*******

It was some hours later in the night — a quarter past three, you guessed — when you entered his room, only to find it empty.

Your chambers were connected by a door that lead to each other’s room and to the dressing room. After trying for hours to get some sleep without success, you decided to go to him and pour your heart out.

_Prime Minister…_

You always knew he was a very ambitious man and he indeed had been irreproachable serving the Crown in the War, but to be a _politician?_ Prime Minister none the less?

That was a bit too much, even for him…

As a General he may have come across all sorts of politics, but they all concerned the War. As Prime Minister War policies would seem child’s play. As naïve and inexperienced as you were, you understood more of the Ton policies than he believed. For starters, you doubted the King would name — or even consider — a bastard as his Prime Minister. And you were not sure the Ton would accept him either.

A sigh left you. What hurt the most was the fact he did not even think about telling you.

How did he expect your support if he told you nothing about it? Because even if he thought he could do it alone, it was crystal clear he couldn’t.

Not without you.

It did not matter your family was bankrupt when you got married — when your father finally admitted he needed the _bastard’s_ help —, your name still had prestige in the Ton. And Armitage Hux would go nowhere without it.   

You shook your head and sat on his bed.

Comfortable.

Huge.

Very huge.

Bigger than yours.

In fact, his entire room was better than yours. A bit too impersonal, true, but at least it was bigger than yours.

It did not seem fair that he got the better room when he spent so many years away.

Part of you thought — with some mischievousness and some thirst for revenge — that you could have transformed it into an extension of your dressing room; it was getting smaller by the day. You needed more space to keep all of your clothing anyways.

You shook your head.

As much as it would have been fun to have him getting mad because of his chambers, you did not want that room for yourself. You never did.

Not when it brought so many memories of your first night together. You caressed the linen of the sheets, recalling how you grabbed onto them as if your life depended on it as he brought you to unimaginable heights of pleasure. 

A shiver ran down your spine.

Recalling that night always made you sad.

Not because of the night itself — no, it was perfect in every sense of the word —, but because of the morning that followed.

You woke up alone — no goodbye kiss, no word _whatsoever_ —, with your father at the foot of the bed tossing you a dressing gown and telling you your husband had gone to War and would hopefully die there before he could even dream of having his title.

The pain of receiving such news was unbearable, but it could not compare to your father complaining how much of a fool you were for giving yourself to such a man so easily.

_Now you are wasted. No respectable gentleman will ever want you, even if that prick is as good as dead._

You embraced both of your legs and placed your chin over your knees.

For days your father pestered you asking if you felt something — anything — different. He had to know in which level of stupidity you were currently. He feared that you were pregnant.

And for days you hoped you were; you even slept praying for all the known gods to bless you with his child. They had to listen to you. It was the only way your father would leave you alone.

They didn’t.

At first, when your moon menses did not come, you were sure you were pregnant. And you could not be happier. But after a few days when you woke up with cramps and your sheets were tinted red you were grateful you had not conceived — and for Rae’s company as well.

She held you in her arms — or you threw yourself at her and she did not push you away — as you cried. It was obvious she was not used to comfort anyone, and it became crystal clear when she broke the news: your father would have you removing the child, if your body did not do it alone.

From this day on, you did not know who you hated more. Your husband — for leaving you alone without a word — or your father — for hating your husband so much at the point of considering having his child removed. 

You bit your bottom lip. You should not give it much thought. It was all in the past. Hux was alive _— your father dead —_  and your father was wrong.

He died believing your husband had died in the War. He died believing you were a fool for loving _such a man_.

In fact, he called you a fool so many times you started believing his words. And after Hux’s behavior, you would not say your father was wrong after all.

You were a fool.

Seconds became minutes and minutes transformed into hours. When you last realized, you were with your head buried in his pillow, inhaling his scent as you fell asleep.

It was hours later — or minutes? You had no idea —, with a slight movement at the end of the bed that you woke up.

You opened your eyes and did not recognize where you were. You looked up, but the room was immersed in darkness. The candles burned out completely and the sun was nowhere in the sky. In its place, only the navy-blue mantle, minus its moon and stars.

“Amirtage, is that you?”

When there was no answer, you tried again.

“Lux?”

There was a sharp intake of breath as you sat on the bed, now wide awake.

“I did not expect to see you here.” His voice reached you before his fingers did. You squealed as he pulled your legs, forcing you to lay on your back and climbed atop of you.

You breathed deeply through your nose, only to realize that he was closer than you imagined. It was almost impossible to measure the distance given how dark the entire chamber was.

Your fingers touched his shoulders, only to find it lacking appropriate clothing.

“Please, tell me you are not…” You bit your bottom lip and started running your foot along his calves. The lack of fabric covering that part of his body made your stomach churn. “naked.”

He gave you only silence.

You felt compelled to keep your search, your foot aiming high. Even if he wore no socks, he would probably have his breeches on, right? You did not even want to think about the alternative.  

“Careful, (Y/N),” he placed a hand under your knee, preventing further movements from you. His thumb traced lazy circles over your calves, making you blush as you thought about the other day. You felt your cheeks reddening and looked away, even if he could not see you in the darkness.

His touch over you did not last more than a few seconds before he broke apart and lit the two candles.

Your first reaction was to check if he had his breeches on. He did. Then you breathed slowly — as if your life depended on it — and looked at his face. His hair was neatly combed and in spite of his lack of upper clothing, he looked as composed as ever.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Where were you?” you asked, not very keen on starting a discussion on why he did not have all his clothes on. You were the one to invade his privacy, after all.

His almost relaxed posture of before flew away. His shoulders tensed, and he straightened his back as he took a seat on the ottoman across the room. 

Shaking your head, you climbed down his bed and headed to your room. You yawned, only now you realized how tired you were. Perhaps you should leave this conversation for tomorrow, when the two of you had your minds set straight.

He did not allow to go, however. He held your wrist and pulled you to him. You feel on his lap, sitting astride him; his legs between yours. Your hands held onto his nude shoulders and his moved to your hips, keeping you in place.

You drew in a sharp breath.

“Let me go.”

Silence.

_As expected._

“Let me go,” you tried once again, a tired sigh leaving your lips as you tried to break free from his grasp. He tightened his hold around you. “What do you want?” you asked in a defeated voice.

Still, he remained in silence.

He was insufferable.

“Look, I am ti— you started, but your sentence ended in a gasp as he bestowed your throat with a brief kiss.

You widened your eyes as he moved his mouth southwards, gracing your clavicle with love bites and kisses. His hands were everywhere, under your slip, caressing your skin; over your hips, moving you sinfully against him.

A moan escaped your lips.

Ashamed, you closed your mouth and you placed your hands over his, trying to stop him. It only helped to further enhance the movements.

You could feel him through his breeches. And, Gods, he was hard… _Twitching with need._ You shifted your hips experimentally, grinding against him, and this time he was the one to inhale sharply.

He moved his mouth to yours, taking your lips in a demanding, lustful kiss. And it was with some sort of surprise that you felt and heard the fabric of your slip torn at your back, leaving your upper body naked to his appreciation.  

Your nipples hardened almost instantly — you did not know if because of the arousal or the cool breeze entering the open windows. There was no time to voice your dissatisfaction for he chose that exact moment to close his lips around your left nipple, twirling his tongue and teeth around it.

A louder moan escaped you.

But very conscient of the occupants of the nearby rooms, you closed your lips, biting the inside of your cheeks.

The general leaned back more comfortably against the ottoman, forcing you to lay atop of him. His mouth returned to your breasts, this time capturing your right nipple between his teeth.

As his hands were both occupied with your hips, dictating your movements in that scandalous sex-simulation, you brought your fingers to your neglected breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between them.

He breathed hard and broke apart. A thread of saliva connected his lips and your skin. He rested his head against the ottoman, his otherwise kept, perfect hair, completely messed, falling over his forehead, as he watched as you pleasured yourself. 

You could feel yourself getting closer and for a moment, all you wanted was to climax around him — with his cock deep buried inside you.

He too was closer. If the way he brought his hips up to meet yours and rubbed you harder against him was of any indication… Or even the dark color of his irises…

You bit your bottom lip and placed both of your hands over his chest for leverage. You threw your head back as the pleasure became stronger and your eyes closed out of their own volition.

Part of you expected him to kiss you as you came — as to muffle the sounds escaping your mouth —, but instead he brought both of his hands to your breasts, pinching your nipples without any mercy.

The pain, mixed with the mind-numbing pleasure had you coming with a high-pitched moan. Your legs trembled around his hips and if not for the considerable width of the ottoman, you probably would have fallen to the floor.

Your movements took a while to come down to a halt. And it seemed like hours had passed before you opened your eyes and looked at him.

The telltales of a smirk graced his features as he ran his fingers over your nude back.

You gasped.

Your hips ground against his once more and your entire body shuddered. You were too sensible after the orgasm, your senses in disarray. It took you a moment to notice his mouth moving, he was speaking something.

…watch you pleasure yourself.”

He rolled you on the ottoman, but instead of staying atop of you he moved to the floor. It was a mere glimpse, but you could see the evidence of his coming in his breeches. You barely had any time to feel proud of yourself, for he kneeled between your legs and started removing your undergarments.

Your face was now red crimson.

He wasn’t… was he?

“I want to taste you,” he whispered against the insides of your thighs, before he placed a small kiss to your hip. You were now completely naked; at his mercy.

And heavens, how you loved it.

He was good at this.

_Too good._

Did he have any practice while he was away?

The very thought was a bucket of cold water to your senses. Instead of incoherent words and moaning as his tongue expertly stroked your clit, you found yourself holding him by his ginger hair and closing your thighs. “Let me go. We can have this conversation tomorrow.”

He looked at you. His eyes clouded with something akin to confusion. Need… _Lust._    

You shuddered.

“You came to me and I doubt you finally left your _shelter_ for nothing.” The way he spoke shelter had you glaring at him. It was obvious he was referring to how you tended to Lux these past two days and spared him not a single a glance during this time.

“He is just a child. And he is jealous of you. Afraid you will take me away from him forever.”

There was silence for a moment.

He caressed the inside of your knee, but this time it did not spark a rush of feelings inside you. It was… _calming._

That or his spell over you was completely broken now.

“He’s insecure, but he meant no harm. If you wish…” You took a moment to think over your next words, you were sure Lux would hate you for that. “He’ll come to you and apologize for faking illness these past two days.”

If he was a lesser man he would probably have snorted. 

“The boy said he hates me.”

 _And who doesn’t?_ you felt like asking. But you knew that if you did you would be lying; you would be doing the same thing you condemned Lux this very afternoon.

Besides, if this man in front of you still had something to the man you worshiped in the past, he still had some insecurities regarding his upbringing and the lack of love in his family.

Before you could control yourself, you ran your fingers through his hair. His bluish eyes were intense, but soon he closed them and enjoyed your caress.

It was like a dream.

He had his hands on the small of your back, stroking you as well.

And even if the two of you were practically naked in front of each other — well, you were naked, for he still he had only his breeches on — it was in no way a sexual moment.

_It was almost companionable._

You lowered your head to kiss him — on the lips or the face it did not matter, you just wanted to show him some affection —, your breath tickling his skin, mixing with his own, and then his words caught you off guard.

“Did I make you cry?” It came out as a whisper, with no trace of judgment whatsoever, but it still made you freeze.

You stopped caressing him and straightened your back.

His hands fell to his sides.

He stared at you.

You bit your bottom lip and left his warmth, putting some steps of distance between you. This time, he did nothing to stop you. He allowed you to go.

There was a moment of silence, as you decided whether to leave or to stay. You thought that you would get no sleep if you went to your room, so you gathered his shirt, neatly folded over an armchair close to a mirror, and covered yourself.    

“When are we moving to London after all?”

Your question seemed to have caught him off guard, for he took some seconds to come up with a reply.

“As you stated before, by the end of this week.”

You took two steps closer to him.

“You should have told me.”

“It would change nothing,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone that you more than hated.

You could have asked how much it did change telling Rae about it, but you swallowed your words.

It would no do to show him how affected you were that he trusted Rae so much while he was not willing to give you the same benefit, even if you were his wife.

All your life you told yourself you refused to be a trophy wife and now you were exactly that.

For what was your use if not showing his companions — showing Lord Terex — that you were good at warming his bed and nothing more? And warming his bed you did that very night.

You bit the inside of your cheeks before you called him something you would regret later. _Heartless bastard._ You took a sharp intake of breath and sat on the loveseat across the room.

“It changes everything.”

He regarded you in silence, waiting for you to continue. Even if you knew almost nothing about the man in front of you — he had changed so much over the course of five years —, he seemed to know just about everything concerning you.

_It was exasperating!_

You wetted your lips and reunited your courage — for you would need it!

When a few seconds passed, and you said nothing, he left the bed and walked towards the anteroom. You could hear him pouring something for him — or for the two of you — and later his steps as he approached and handed you a glass with brandy.   

“It changes everything because, my dear husband, if you want to be nominated for Prime Minister, you need me.”

He arched one eyebrow.

You smelled the drink and took it all in one gulp. It would give you some courage. It had to.

He was quiet throughout your discourse; his face blank. He nursed his brandy, sipping it lightly. When he returned his attention back to you, blue eyes as intense as ever, you gasped.

And found your courage.

It would be the last time Armitage Hux underestimated you.

You smiled sweetly at him as you continued, “Perhaps you don’t remember, but my father was a figure very close to the King himself…”

His eyes were narrowed.

His lips were pursed into a thin line.

You had reached him.

You had _finally_ got some reaction from him.

Even if one of anger or disbelief — you could not precise which one you liked more. Both were very fitting — you had yanked some fucking reaction from him.   

“Meaning, if I tell him you are not fit to be Prime Minister…”

He snorted.

“What you mean, my dear wife…” he stared, caressing the inside of your pulse. You did your best not to jerk away. “Is that my political career now lays in your hands.”

You nodded, feeling very confident.

“I would say it’s a clever move, if not foolish,” he whispered against your ear, trapping your earlobe between his teeth. You gasped this time, your nails deep buried in the armrests. “Lady Hux, you are playing a game you are bound to lose.”

 _Perhaps,_ you thought.

Instead of giving him any answer, you moved your head towards him, brushing your mouth against his. He licked your bottom lip, before he slithered his tongue inside your mouth. You could briefly taste yourself.

A moan escaped you.

For a moment, you let him dominate the kiss, your fingers caressing his neck and his ginger hair. Your left hand trailed his thighs. You stroked him through his breeches. Hard again. Ready to play. He inhaled sharply.

In your mind, all you could think was that if you lost, he lost was well.

That was a game played by two and the General was in for a great ride if he thought you quit so easily. If he expected to win, he better start playing by your rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter (I hope you don't mind) and with some smut as well xD  
> So reader is not as stupid as Hux think she's. As for Agent Terex, he's a bad guy I happen to like a bit, so he'll get to appear in some of my works. I know he's OOC (everyone is, I'm sorry), but he won't be that recurrent. This story doesn't have a huge villain, the main focus will be on Hux and Reader. 
> 
> Just a small note. I took the name Lux from Lux Bonteri, a character I also happen to like very much from the Clone Wars. Btw, I miss Clone Wars so much, I gotta rewatch every episode again and again! xD 
> 
> Well, I think that's all. I welcome any criticism, ideas, or whatever you have to say. Don't be shy! 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> Stay tuned, tomorrow there'll be an update for Lie to Me!


	3. To hate a General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovelies! xD
> 
> I would not post this week, in fact, I was ready to come up with a new chapter next Thursday, but for some reason I felt highly inspired today (and after reading Bloodlines by Claudia Gray) and I decided to have the third installment, To hate a General, posted.
> 
> My biggest thanks to the increasing numbers of kudos (you never stop amazing me!), hits and bookmarks and, of course, your reviews. My biggest thank you to GoldTrimmedSpectacles, anonymous, Venix and Millicent for reviewing chapter 2. You guys are amazing! 
> 
> It's almost 3 a.m here and I've just finished this chapter, so you probably will find some mistakes. I'll come back here fix them as soon as possible. 
> 
> Happy reading!

THE WAY TO LONDON WAS PAVED WITH SEPHUCRAL SILENCE.

Although the trip had been scheduled to take place during the weekend, the news of Lord Poe Dameron’s death hastened it by three days.

The coachman, under Hux’s orders, set a punishing pace over the horses. There were two carriages, one for you and Hux, and the second for Lux and his tutoress — to your displeasure, Rae Sloane chose to stay behind to organize your belongings. She was set to arrive two days after you did.

And even if you did not agree with her choice — for Lux needed her more than ever —, she had Hux’s approval.

You had not explained why you left Southampton all of a sudden to Lux. In fact, you had no idea how you would explain his father — his only living family — had died. The circumstances of his death were still a mystery to you. Hux merely received a missive from Lady Organa and informed you to prepare a few of your and Lux’s belongings for you were going to London.

Lux did not seem to care about leaving and as long as he had you or Rae, you doubted he would complain about something. And you thought he would not care when he learned about Poe. He was just four and unable to grasp the concepts of life and death. You were sure he did not acknowledge Poe as his father either; he never called him as such. To him you and Rae were his only family.

A yawn left you.

You were tired. Utterly spent, actually.

Even if Lux did not complain about leaving, he did not accept to stay away from you and you did not have the heart to force him to stay with his preceptress in another carriage.

Hux took your decision with some displeasure, but he did not voice his thoughts. He was not naïve enough — nor blind, he saw what you planned under your mask of courtesy — to believe you accepted Lux in your personal carriage only because you did not want to displease the boy, but because you wanted to keep him at bay.

If something was to take place between the two of you, it would be on your own terms, _your initiative._ And you thought that you proved you could do it fairly well last time.

Honestly, you did not know you had it in you — your experience was limited when it came to bedroom affairs —, but after he said you were not fit to play such a game with him, you felt like you should prove him wrong.

The mere remembrance of how you took him in your mouth — such a depravity! — had you blushing now. You had never done that before and never heard of a decorous lady — wife! — doing that to their husbands. In London’s most popular Ballrooms there was talk of _that_ being an act of courtesans and lowly whores.

You were neither.

However, seeing that your husband had no problem kissing you _there_ in your first — and only — night together; how eager he seemed to repeat the act at that very moment — and how much pleasure it brought you — you thought that it might be good to him as well.

You were not wrong.

Hux did seem to enjoy it. _A lot._     

And honestly, the more the proper and _oh, so very decent_ ladies of Ton said it was inappropriate — a woman who did enjoy such pleasures with her husband or who did use such means to bring pleasure to her husband was no better than a common whore — the more you wanted to try it. There were many opportunities for you to try it with other men, but while you did not know for sure Hux was six feet under, you did not have it in you to cheat on him — even if he probably did the same to you.

You decided to test your theory that night. He was putty in your hands — and mouth. And while your body demanded for you to go further with him, and you knew he could give you so much more of those pleasures if you only let him, you decided to put a stop to that night of debauchery.

If Hux wanted you, he would have to work for you.

And he would have you, _eventually._ But only when you decided he deserved you. For now, he would have to content himself with the smaller bits of attention you decided to bestow upon him.

If you were too weak to stop him, you knew you could count on Lux to help you.            

A small smile, rapidly covered by a yawn, outlined your lips. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head against Hux’s shoulder. Lux was between the two of you, gripping the fabric of both of your clothes in his chubby hands.  

The two of them were fast asleep. It was funny how, in spite of their obvious distaste and disapproval of each other, they clung to each other subconsciously.

Not for the first time, you wondered how he would behave with a child of his own — _your child._ You bit your bottom lip; your fingers played with his bluish cravat. Part of you wondered how he would react if you said Lux was his — would he be happy? Overjoyed? Surprised? Another part knew he would not take lightly to such lie.

You snuggled against him and let sleep take over you as well.

*******

All servants were ready to welcome you when the carriage stopped at Piccadilly Street. Even before you could disembark, the building had you in awe.

There was talk around the city — there was always talk in Southampton —, concerning the General’s newest acquisition, but you did not expect it to be so… monumental.

Arkanis Hall was really a sight to behold. With its Greeks columns, it looked majestic and, at the same time, a bit intimidating. Undoubtedly, a mansion fit to accommodate a Duke. You knew how wealthy the Hux family was, but it still stunned you how much profit they made from their brewery in Ireland. Although your father did its best to hide from you the essence of your husband’s business, you knew very well their nature.

While he was away and there was talk about you being a widow, you conduced a thorough investigation concerning the nature of his business — in case you needed to oversee it.

His hand outstretched for you to take waved off whatever thoughts plaguing your mind. You placed your gloved fingers upon his and accepted his help to disembark. Lux was still sleeping and it was with some surprise — _screw that!_ You were completely bewildered — that you saw him taking the boy in his arms with all the care in the world.

You even thought about offering to hold Lux yourself, but you realized that maybe that was not the best decision — not when there were so many servants watching your very soul.

In silence, you followed him inside, only to have both the butler and governess trailing right behind you, waiting for further instructions. You removed your gloves and watched, with narrowed eyes, as Hux climbed the stairs towards the bedrooms. Part of you wanted to follow him, but you knew what he was doing and that it in fact needed to be done, if you wanted to be respected by the servants.

Those people worked for other masters before and all they wanted was one single reason to badmouth you and Hux — at Lux’s expenses nonetheless. If it depended on you, they would have no reasons whatsoever to say anything.

But just in case Lux woke up… You gesticulated for the preceptress to follow Hux upstairs.

“Is there anything I need to know concerning the servants?” you asked as soon as you were left alone in the company of both the butler and the governess.

“They are here to serve, Your Ladyship,” the butler replied, his eyes cast down. “And they are happy to serve in anything you or the Lord see fit.”

You nodded, not at all pleased with their answers. The governess stayed in silence. You wondered if Hux had other plans in store for Rae. If she was not here to act as a governess as she did back in Southampton, then he must have thought of another occupation for her. In any case, you already saw her criticizing the governess — starting with the misalignment of the buttons in her uniform. After all, Rae Sloane always thought that having an impeccable appearance was prerequisite for an equally flawless work.   

You squinted… Was that a missing button? As if it just popped out after someone tried to take it off or put it back on in a rush…?

A small smile graced your lips as you thought about how much the two of them would get along.    

“Should I fetch the maid who will be assisting Your Ladyship?” She spoke for the first time, her tone and security in her words stunning you. Rae would definitely get along with her — it is, if she took care of her uniform first.   

“Yes.” You started making your way towards the stairs. “Have someone prepare my and Lux bath please, have some tea ready for us before we part for the funeral.”

“It shall be done, Your Ladyship,” she replied with a bow. “Will that be all?”

You even thought about not saying it out loud, but you could simply not control yourself.

“Do something about your uniform. I can see your corset from here.”

There was no need to cast a look at her over your shoulder to know she was blushing. It made your smile broaden. Rae would definitely like her!

*******

You sat in the drawing room looking at the windows with a lost expression. You still haven’t told Lux about Poe’s death and honestly you had no idea you knew what to say.

Part of you thought about letting Hux break the news. Another part trembled in fear at the idea. He would surely scar Lux for life… Well, but it could be fun to ask him to do it. He would probably stare at you as if you had grown thirty heads at the same time. The look in his face would be priceless.   

Bringing the cup of tea to your lips, you sipped the warm liquid and leaned against the sofa. You were the first to get ready. It was still early in the morning and the last day of Lord Dameron’s funeral before the proper burial.

Although Lady Organa had it all settled to have his funeral in the Saint Paul’s Cathedral, His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, beat her to it and offered his mansion, Apsley House, as the last place for family, friends and comrades of War say their goodbyes.

Needless to say, you saw right through his good intentions. Even if Poe Dameron was a good commander, he was not even an Admiral or a General like Hux.  

If your father were alive, you were sure he would not allow such. But if your father were alive, you would not have met Poe and taken Lux under your care. You knew he would never allow such scandalous to befall upon his family name.

A sigh left you as you smoothed the skirts of your velvety black dress. In the very same instant you placed your cup of tea back on the coffee table, the preceptress entered the drawing room leading Lux by the hand.

He was rubbing his eyes, still sleepy. And only you knew how grumpy and moody he could be in such circumstances. You waved the preceptress off, asking for her to bring him some hot chocolate.

It made him look at you with adoration in his eyes.

“Thank you, _Mama_.”

You bit your bottom lip.

It was now or never.

And never was not an option in this case.

You pulled him towards you by his chubby hands and adjusted his clothing. He really looked like a Little Lord with those clothes of his. A small smile graced your lips.  

“Listen, Little Lord…” You started, caressing his cheeks. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, still too sleepy to say anything else.

“Well…” You breathed deeply through your nose. “You know Lord Dameron… the man who visits you from time to time and bring you some toys?”

He looked lost for a moment.

You helped him sit on the couch beside yourself, watching how he swung his little legs absentmindedly.

“The one who brought you some sweets?”

This time he smiled at you. It was all you needed to notice that one of his front tooth was missing. You touched his chin and tilted his head slightly back. It made him close his mouth automatically.

“Open up, Little Lord.”

He shook his head.

You knew how shy he became whenever one of his tooth fell. And considering it was one of his front teeth… Even so, you pressed him a bit more. 

“Lux, open your mouth.”

He obeyed you this time. Unwillingly, but he did.

“When did it fall?”

“Today.”

“During your bath,” you completed for him. “Who helped you?”

Part of you was afraid he would say Hux did. You bit your bottom lip and with some surprised looked up when the preceptress came back and said she did. She approached Lux with handled him his hot chocolate.

“Of course you did,” you replied with some relief. You knew it made no sense, but you wanted Hux as far away as possible from Lux.      

“What happened to Lord Dameron?” His childish voice brought you back from your musings. He had a chocolate mustache gracing his features.

_Right._

You did not realize you completely fled the topic.

“He died?”

You cringed as the words left you. And to think you were worried about letting Hux break the news. You did even worse than he could possibly… Argh. You never hated yourself more than in that moment.

Casting a look at the preceptress and then back at Lux you were surprised to find him thoroughly concentrated on his mug. You accepted the small napkin she offered and cleaned his chin.      

“He went to heaven?”

Rae Sloane would kill the both of you for this definition, but you thought that was a pretty good explanation for a four-year-old.

“Yes… That’s a way of putting it,” you conceded. “But please, don’t ever tell Rae that.”

“Why?” he asked, curiosity written all over his chestnut, expressive eyes.

“Listen, Little Lord,” you started, removing the mug from his hands. You knew he would pay you little attention as long as he had that in his grasp. You handed it to the preceptress and looked towards the door. She bowed and left the two of you alone. “Remember when I said he was your father?”

“Yes.”

He was puzzled. And slightly irritated you took his mug from him. However, he made no complaints. He knew when you were speaking seriously and that certainly qualified as one of such times.

“He is not coming to visit you anymore.”

“Heaven is a good place…?” Even if his words were those of affirmation, it sounded like a question. You nodded, allowing him time to formulate his sentence. “Then it’s fine, _Mama.”_

He was so naïve.

_Innocent._

You wondered if he would cry when he saw Lord Dameron lying there in the coffin. _Motionless._

Honestly, as much as you threw it in Hux’s face Poe Dameron visited, it was a very rare occasion. He did stop by to see Lux three or four times during his four years of life. Yet, he was still his father. And Lux adored him and his company.

 _Or his gifts,_ Rae Sloane would probably say.

You brought him to your arms and held onto him tightly. He embraced you back, leaning his ginger head against your shoulder.

In this very moment, the butler opened the double doors of the drawing room and Hux appeared, all dressed in black.

He cleared his throat.

“Ready to leave?”

*******

Even if you were years older than Lux, you too could quite not grasp the concept of life and death and how the living made such a fuss over it.

And although you were versed in politics — your decision to bring Lux to his father’s funereal was but a political assertion —, it still fazed you how people could use the death of others to state their positions in the Ton.

Nobody even seemed to care — it is, except for Lady Organa and her family. They had been very courteous to you and Lux as well. Her son, Ben Solo, did not get along with your husband, but the two of them were at least polite towards each other.

He did not stay with you all the time. As a General, he had duties to perform and there were always elevated expectations over his head. And of course if he wanted to become Prime Minister, that was a good situation to start showing his cards.

His speech did that for him, although you could not understand why he did nothing to say Lux was Poe’s son. For all you knew — and only Lady Organa knew otherwise — everyone in Apsley House thought Lux was his and yours.

You bit your bottom lip as you heard everyone applaud all around you. He left the small platform where his speech took place and headed towards you — but not before greeting some Lords and politicians, including the Duke of Wellington himself, the last person to speak before the burial.

Before Hux could reach you, you excused yourself from Lady Organa’s company and asked a servant to deliver a small piece of paper to one of the reporters of The Times present at the funeral.

You kept your distance, not really sure you wanted to hear the Duke’s speech. It was funny — and infuriating as well — how every situation was good enough to show off in the Ton, including a highly esteemed Duke. You never had any problems with him, but you had no qualms playing — and winning — politic games.

Part of you hated that they chose such a moment to start their dispute for the most prized position both in the Ton and the political field, but you would be damned if you let the Duke win.

You were so distracted in your own little world you barely saw Hux approaching, Lux trailing after him, one of his hands holding onto the fabric of his breeches.

Arching your brows, you opened your mouth to ask what sort of sorcery he performed over the boy, to have him acting so civilized towards him, but you closed it afterwards when he placed one of his hands on your waist and bestowed you with a kiss on the cheek.

Your heart broke a little at the realization that Lux was not yours. Not for the first time that day you wondered how it would change your relationship if the situation was any different.

“What are you doing here?”

You did not give him an immediate answer and disentangled yourself from his embrace, offering a hand for Lux to take.

He shook his head.

Instead, he accepted Hux’s hands and the two of them left you behind. A shocked expression on your face.

_What the hell was that?_

*******

You had many questions to him.

As in only one question you wanted thoroughly answered. No hesitation, no lies, no half-truths whatsoever.

After you put Lux to bed — and it finally downed on him that Poe Dameron was dead and was not coming back —, you left your chambers and headed towards your husband’s study room. He was either alone or still talking business with Rae Sloane.

Lord Dameron’s burial had been three days earlier. Rae arrived only yesterday. Needless to say, she lost no time to reprimand you for letting the boy believe his father had gone to heaven — it’s also needless to say she did not believe in God.

As for how close both Lux and Hux got in the last few days she had nothing to tell you. _Sided with the enemy._ As always.

And as expected.

You snorted.

Closing your dressing gown, braced yourself for her inquiry eyes and her disgust at your weakness as well. Honestly, you could not help your jealousy. It was not fair that Lux decided from day to night he preferred Hux over you.

And that was what was eating away your insides. That was simply not possible. He had bribed Lux with sweeties or something like that. The boy would never prefer his company over yours.

You raised your hand to knock on the door, but stopped yourself when you heard their current topic.

_…So you plan on sending him to Eton?_

There was silence after Rae’s words.

You held your breath, afraid they had heard you. You pressed your ear against the wooden door and waited for Hux’s reply. It came shortly after the sound of a glass — porcelain? — was placed over another surface — wood?

“Yes.”

He did not say anything else.

You bit your bottom lip.

“(Y/N), won’t like it,” Rae started. You could almost see her shaking her head, a strand of raven hair falling from her uptight hairdo. “She won’t approve of your actions. She will likely hate it if you send him to an overseas institution that accept children.”

Part of you expected your husband to take his time to respond. He was not one to small talk and he always thought his words very carefully — except, of course, when he was angry. It did not seem the case. You wondered, though, how he would react if he knew you were listening to this very conversation.

“She does not have a saying in it.”

“No?” Rae repeated. You could bet she was smiling. “Let me refresh your memories, General,” she added and he snorted, as if she said something so very amusing. “You’re not Lux’s father.”

_Ouch._

That hurt.

You smiled in spite of the burning sensation in your stomach.

It seemed Rae was not on his side as you previously thought. You almost slapped yourself at such nonsense. Rae Sloane was not on his or your side. She played by her own rules and she supported no one, but herself.

The fact that she raised Hux and helped him with his abusive father did not mean she would support his every decision — even the stupid ones.

And if it concerned Lux, of course she would think about what was best for the boy and at the present time he needed you. _The two of you._

_…can see that._

You shook your head, pressing your ear again against the double doors. You missed part of what he said.

“I never said that was a bad decision,” Rae said, and by her movements — her steps — you could say she was about to leave the study room.

_Crap._

But you haven’t heard everything. They still had so much more to say, right? You had to know what Hux was planning. He would never tell you.

_You needed to know._

“I merely said you’re picking a hell of a fight with Lady Hux.”

You could almost see his smile — a mischievous smile at that — when he replied, “I can deal with her.”

Your heart accelerated, galloping against your ribcage — even Lux’s wildest horses could not keep with its rhythm. It had been a while since you last felt this angry.

First, he made the boy like him in the timeframe of what? Four days? Now he was planning on sending him away. On forcing him to part ways with you and Rae — the one he needed and would always need the most.

“I can deal with her…” you repeated his words, mimicking his smug tone. “I can deal with her… Really?” You bit your bottom lip in anger. “We shall see, Lord Hux.”

_We shall see._

*******

You had no idea what time it was when you heard the door of the anteroom cracking open. Probably very tired. If before you had no idea of your husband’s sleeping habits, now you knew he barely slept.

No wonder he had those dark circles under his eyes and his skin was getting paler and paler.

 _Well, he could die,_ you thought with the shadow of a smile crossing your lips. He could die for all you cared. He could die here, right now and you would not even bat an eye.

You brought Lux to the comfort of your arms and buried your nose in his ginger hair. Part of you hated that he even smelled like Hux — were they using the same shampoo? You would kill Hux if that was the case!

After he said he was sending Lux away you thought that nothing, no explanation whatsoever could ever make you love him or even respect him again.

You closed your eyes and decided to go back to sleep. Let the great Armitage Hux have the surprise of the century when he realized you put Lux to share his bed — _your bed._

However, as this thought came to life in your mind, you heard him stopping at the bed; a candelabrum cast a flickering light in the chamber.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

You did not raise your head from the pillow, unless you wanted to smile and blow your cover.    

“Well…” you whispered back, your voice heavy with sleep. “He was having a nightmare and I thought you wouldn’t mind. It’s not like you get any sleep, to be honest.”

He retreated, heading back to the anteroom, and as much as you wanted to ignore him and let him sleep on the floor — you could not care less —, you could not control your urges.

You moved away from Lux carefully, placed the blankets over him and kissed his cheek lovingly before you followed your husband outside.

Closing the double doors behind yourself, you watched as he took a seat. You did not mimic him, you would rather stay on your feet and preferably away from him.

“I thought you liked the boy,” you started, using the word _boy_ as he did in the past. _With disdain._ “Perhaps you only like him when he’s useful to you.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowed, but nothing left his lips.

His silence both stunned and angered you.

You expected him to say something.

Anything.

To agree.

To disagree.

To mock you.

To say you were a child.

He did neither.

“You are a hateful person,” you started, biting your bottom lip. You were on the verge of crying, but just like Lux — just like _him —_ you were too damn stubborn to cry. “How can you do that? How could you?”

He stood on his feet, his furrowed brows made you want to slap him. You did.

Or at least tried to.

He held onto your wrists and pulled you to him.

You squirmed against him, but he did not you go. His breath tickled your skin; his five o’clock shadow brushed against your cheeks as he continued to hold you.

Before you realized, you were crying.

From anger.

Desperation.

_Hate._

“I hate you.”

These words seemed to do the trick. He let go of you immediately, and you stumbled backwards, only to regain your balance seconds later.

“How can you send him away? To some overseas institution nonetheless?”

You could deal with Eton — you knew eventually Lux would have to part ways with both you and Rae —, they only accepted boys after their thirteenth birthday. He had to study. So why not Eton, one of the best institutions in your own country?

His reaction was quick.

You almost did not see it.

It was as if relief flooded him, before he stared at you with those impossibly blue eyes of his, his expression cold and filled with disgust.

“I refuse to have this conversation with you if you are to behave this childishly.”

A slap would have hurt less.

You felt your cheeks heating at his words.

“Childish behavior is yours that want to separate him from his—

“ _His_ what?” he hissed. He had invaded your personal space, towering over you. His stare was so intense, he could almost feel it burning you. “ _You are not_ his mother.”

It only served to push you further.

If he would not allow you to slap him — he would cage your wrists the moment you thought about it —, at least he would not see it coming. You spat on his face and if the situation were any different, you would have laughed at the look of pure revulsion on his eyes.

Before he could outline any reaction, a tiny sob drew both of your attentions to Lux. He was staring at you with chestnut eyes wide open.  

He was not crying.

At least, he was not making a big deal of it.

But Lux was not a child used to see anyone fighting. It probably scared him — you were always scared when your father and your mother fought.

Casting a glance at Hux — it was obvious it was all his fault — you walked to Lux, but he refused to go to your arms. He did not go to Hux either.

In that very moment, someone opened the door. Your body tensed at the thought of his preceptress or any other servant catching you in such situation, but it was only Rae. A sigh left you as she entered the anteroom and offered a hand to Lux.

He ran to her, wrapping his arms around her legs.

You felt guilty when she patted his head in a very Rae-ish manner and looked at you. Even if you could not see very well in the darkened room, you could bet her eyes hid nothing of her disapproval of your actions.

She nudged him forward and when he was not in your sights, she said, her voice low and chilly,  

“You are ridiculous. Both of you.”

*******

There was silence between you.

For a couple of seconds.

Of minutes.

You did not now.

Both of you sat in the couch, side by side; thighs quite not brushing, but neither paid any attention to it.

He would not say anything.

You knew it. Even if he had changed a lot, his refusal to apologize when he thought he was right would never change — you wondered if he did apologize to those above him in the army. He used to apologize to your father quite often when he was a teenager; when the two of you were engaged. Most of times he was not wrong.

And when he was, it was usually because of your actions.

Begrudgingly, you breathed deeply through your nose and started, “Please don’t send him away.”

You expected him to take his time to reply. You were not ready to have him answering you so soon, nor the content of his words.

“You always expect the worst of me.”

_What?_

Your mouth hung open as you tried to come up with a reply. Nothing came to your mind. After a while staring at him with an expression of surprise — you bet you never looked so silly in all your life, you said,

“You never gave me any reason to expect otherwise.”

By his sharp intake of breath, you realized that this time, your words felt like a slap to his face. But what did he expect? What did he want of you? You were suddenly tired of this game — and you barely stared it!

“I love Lux,” you said, your voice small. “I can forgive anything, but I swear, Armitage, I will never forgive you if you take him from me.”

He gave you no answer, but his intense stare made you shudder. Armitage Hux was not a man of many words and certainly not one used to talk about feelings — his or otherwise —, but his eyes — when he did not hold the reins of his emotion so tightly — hid nothing of what was on his mind and heart.

At the moment, you could tell your words did not surprise him in the least. He seemed almost… _reassured at them._

“I can take you bribing him and diverting his attention to you sometimes, but I won’t let you let him study overseas now.”

There was a small smile on his lips as he placed one of his hands on your face, removing a strand of hair from your eyes and placing it behind your ear.

“Stop smiling.” You slapped his hands away. It made his smile broaden. “It’s not funny.”

“I did not bribe the boy,” he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip. Even if you fought against it, your heart accelerated.   

“So he became boy again, huh?”

“I was getting to know him better.”

“Why?” You furrowed your brows. His small caresses did not matter now. You were so curious you would even kiss him if it meant he would answer your questions. Subconsciously, you looked up at his lips, taking your time on them. “I know you bribed him somehow. Lux hates you… Or he used to.”

There was silence on his part for a moment.

You knew he did not like it when you said Lux hated him.

_Why?_

It made no sense.

“He will go to Eton when he turns thirteen,” he said, pulling you into a kiss.

It was brief. Chaste. A mere brush of lips.

But this, coupled with the information and how regretful his eyes and tone seemed to you, had you gasping in his mouth.

He took that as an invitation to take your lips more properly. His hands moved on your back, bringing your body against his; your legs straddled his.

Still, even if your bodies were so close together, and the moment was very intimate, there was nothing sexual about it.

You entwined your fingers through his short hair and placed your forehead against his. Undoubtedly, that was the first moment of — _peace?_ you did not even know how to put it — _something_ between you.

“I did bribe him with sweets. He has a sweet tooth.”

“I knew it!”

There was a moment of silence. You closed your eyes and lowered your head to his shoulder, your hand moving back, till it settled against his heart. He placed his hand over yours, both of your fingers entwining together.  

Your heart sped.

In that moment, you could swear he felt — if not love, at least something —, _he cared_ for you.

“He likes toffee,” he whispered, against your hair and placed a kiss to your temples.

“He does,” you whispered back, a small smile gracing your lips.

He moved from the couch and took you in his arms. It elicited a light squeal from you. Without your permission, your thoughts went back to your first night together — he held you like this, your arms around his shoulders, your legs wrapped around his waist as he guided you to the bed.

When he lowered you to the mattress, you did not let go of him. He settled between your legs, but he did not try anything. He did not move. His fingers traced your cheeks in a small caress that had you leaning against him.

“Why?”

There was no answer from his part. It was if he did not hear you. His right hand moved from the mattress and caressed the underside of your knee, his fingers moving slightly up towards your thighs.

“Why, can’t we always be like this?”

You caressed his face.

In the darkened room, you could not see it, but you could feel every plane of his chiseled jaw and sculpted nose. He was a very beautiful man. You remembered how he used to take your breath away when he merely cast a glance at you in the past.

You brushed your fingers against his lips, and the need to kiss him again was almost overpowering.   

“Why can’t we stop fighting? Why can’t we just stop hiding things from each other? I wouldn’t be mad if you talked to me about sending Lux to Eton. I know he will have to leave someday, but… To hear it like that, as if you were playing with my feelings…” Your voice broke. “I can’t bear the thought of losing him right now.”

He did not reply.

Instead, he broke apart from you and sat on the bed.

It made you furrow your brows.

You thought you were having a moment… What happened to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me, (Y/N)? Why did you hide it from me?”

His voice was no more than a whisper.

But not a warm, welcoming whisper.

It was cold.

Devoid of any good emotion.

_Enraged, even._

“Tell you what?” You sat on the bed as well and moved to touch him. He inched away. You furrowed your brows. What happened to that — _peaceful? pleasant?_ — moment of before?

“He is mine. Lux is my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for today, kids!
> 
> I must say I didn't know this chapter would end like this. I mean... I knew... What I mean is that I have a draft of the chapters and somehow the characters come to life on their own... As for how it ended, if you follow me on my tumblr, nymphl, you already know the answer to Hux's last line, if you don't or if you haven't seen the post, I'll leave you curious till next update! HAHAHAHAHHA
> 
> Now, seriously. As most of you said you liked Lux, I decided to make his chapter centered on him. Yeap. Poe died, and I assure you, it's absolutely necessary for the plot. As for Hux reasoning, whether he is right or not, you'll come to know in the next chapter. He has reasons to believe it. If he is right or not, I'm not telling xD
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> Now, I gotta get some sleep! See you xD


	4. To play a General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beloved! xD
> 
> I couldn't have it posted yesterday, so here I am with this chapter. I have no idea if you'll like this chapter. I absolutely did not have it planned when I started writing, but it just felt right and I decided to go along with it. 
> 
> I hope you like it.
> 
> And guys! GUYS! You have NO IDEA how happy I am with your response to this story. Here with your kudos, hits, bookmarks and reviews and on tumblr with your asks (I must say I laughed A LOT with your despair with last chapter's cliff), and recommendations and you know. I feel like I'm doing something right and that this story matters. That I matter. You have no idea how incredible this feels! And how much I love and treasure each of you. If you ever think that leaving a review, that sending an ask, reblogging a post or anything like that doesn't matter for an author/artist, think again. No matter how much attention we get, it always feel good to know someone out there enjoys our work!
> 
> For those who reviewed last chapter (mel, EmmyLou, isthisonetakenyet and anonymous) you guys made my day. Thank you for your kind words!
> 
> I thought about dedicating this chapter to some people, but so many of you sought this story out this week and asked me about it, what's to come, left me kind words here and on tumblr, I am just afraid I will forget to mention any of you and hurt your feelings. To avoid that, know that you matter to me and that I LOVE each of you. For real! 
> 
> Happy reading!

“MY LADY,” THE GOVERNESS BEGAN, HER TONE DID NOTHING TO HIDE HER NERVOUNESS. SHE WAS SHAKING. “HIS LORDSHIP ASKED IF YOU WOULD GIVE HIM THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY IN THE BREAKFAST TABLE.”

In other words, Hux demanded your presence. _Right. Now._

You smiled in spite of yourself. You would have laughed but thought that maybe it the governess would think you were laughing at her — which was also the case, but not only nor the _main_ cause. Bringing your cup of tea to your lips, you savored it as if you had never tasted anything so good.

“You may tell him that I appreciate his invitation, but I shall decline.”

There was a moment of silence, which you used to drink more of your tea before you lost control of yourself and laughed out loud. Then a sharp intake of breath and finally a confused, “My Lady?”

“That will be all.”

She bowed, her face contorted into a grimace of both fear and… _disapproval?_ You did not know, and you did not care. Before she could leave, however, you said, “I see that your uniform is in… adequate condition today.”

You could have asked if Rae said something, but you thought that she would have more than enough to handle as soon as she told Hux you would not be joining him.

She blushed, visibly embarrassed with your words.

“Thank you, Your Ladyship.”  

As soon as the door was closed, you put your cup on the tray and brought both of your hands to your face. Your head hit the pillow and you finally laughed. If not for having the tray placed over your legs, you would have kicked the mattress as well.

What a day!

_What. A. Day._

By now, your beloved husband probably had finished reading The Times and mainly the gossip column — only that could explain why he asked for your company when he knew you were dismissed of having breakfast at the table.

As a Marquess and a married Lady, you were actually encouraged to have breakfast alone, secluded in your own chambers. It denoted your nobility and importance in a household. And while you thought that was simply old fashioned bullshit, it never came so in hand.

You laughed again as you thought about Hux’s face right now.

Did he yell at the governess?

Did he hit the table with his fists?

Did his face get as red as his hair?

Ah, you would simply _love_ to be in his company right now.

No. 

Actually, you would give everything you had to be a small fly, so you could spy on him without denouncing yourself.

That would be… just awesome.

You laughed some more and concentrated on your breakfast, your eyes on the world beyond those windows. Albeit closed, the curtains were opened and you could see the sun shining outdoors.

_What a lovely day._

You closed your eyes and inhaled your tea. It was warm — you bet as warm as the beautiful sunrays coming through the window, it was a pity you would not go on a walking with Lux that morning.

He loved playing outdoors, but after what you did — and mainly after Poe’s funeral — you thought that was not a smart decision.

Again, how did Hux react?

The waiting was killing you.

You counted to ten, expecting him to come banging on your door. He did not. But _that_ was to be expected. He demanded you — with polite words, of course, but that was still an order — to come to him and explain yourself — you defied him — and he would not go to you. Unless he wanted to be seen as weak he would stay exactly where he was.

_Clever._

That was a very childish power play and neither of you wanted to give up. Neither of you _would_ give up. Neither would be seen as weak.

You expected him to avoid your chambers till night, when he would have to prepare for the Ball hosted by His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, in honor of the great and well-regarded Commander Poe Dameron.

Honestly, if not for having Lady Organa — and Rae, if you could convince her to join you; she simply _hated_ such events — you would have declined his invitation. The man was getting ahead of himself. A Ball in honor of his Commander a day after his burial? As much as Poe was a lively person, you viewed the Duke’s action as reckless and not so thought-out.

A small smile crept to your lips…

Well, even more reason to go and put a convenient smile to your face. If the Royal Family would not meet their General — as responsible for the unbelievable victory over the French as their Major General — you would make sure they heard of him.

You wondered if after his thunderous reputation after the Battle of Waterloo he talked about politics with his wife — he probably did not. There was word out there that his marriage to Catherine Wellesley was highly unsatisfactory, with the Duke pursuing other partners in broad daylight — and who were his political advisers. They were probably all old men and lacked the necessary qualities to play the politic game in the Ton.

A sigh left your lips as you thought that Hux was not that very different. Although he did not consult with old rags — he had Rae Sloane, but Rae knew about Wars, not about the Ton — he did not talk to you. It was beyond frustrating!

Well… You just had to prove him wrong.

_To prove them wrong._

*******

It was past lunch — this time you had to go downstairs, but Hux was locked in his study in what seemed to be a very important meeting with Rae Sloane and a manager recently arrived from Dublin — when you finally crossed paths with him.

You would have turned away, before he noticed you — and declared he had won your little, petty competition — but stopped at hearing his voice.

He was in the drawing room with Lux. To your complete despair, he was reading a story to the _boy._ Reading the same fable you did when you caught him faking illness.

If you did not think him utterly ridiculous, you would have felt some anger creeping through your veins.

And judging by Lux’s confused face, that was certainly _not_ the fable he had been reading before you entered the drawing room. That made your need to smile even more noticeable.

_Ridiculous._

And he dared calling you childish.

The smile quickly died in your mouth. If he still believed you were lying — not that you vehemently denied and dismissed his romantics about being Lux’s fathers last night, actually you merely waved him off and said that he would never know the answer for sure —, he would be very mad after tonight.

Well, he would be very mad at you for meddling in his business — he already was — but that had to be done. The announcement over Lux’s adoption on The Times was necessary. Actually, _vital_ to his political career.

By now, the Royal Family must have heard of him. If not about his successful campaign in the Napoleonic Wars, at least about his courageous and heartfelt act after a brother in arms suddenly and tragically passed away.

You would make sure of that.

However, your actions may have seen as another of your childish attempts at driving him away from whom he thought to be his son and heir. Now you regretted your answer. If you told him — for real — the whole story he would understand, wouldn’t he?

When Lux saw you, his smile brightened, and he disentangled himself from your husband and ran to you.

A small smile touched your lips as you bowed slightly and patted his ginger hair lovingly. He giggled when you tapped his little nose.

“Mama, would you like to hear a story?”

You even opened your mouth to reply, but Hux closed the book within his right hand immediately, indicating he would by no means read you a story — perhaps another fable on why lying was a bad thing. Perhaps you should read some on why he should trust his family.

Trust you.

If you said Lux was not his son it was because he was not.

Period.

What was so difficult about that?

You barely realized you forgot to give Lux an answer and was instead glaring at Hux. The boy pulled the skirts of your black dress and asked, his brows furrowed, “Mama?”

“Oh, yes, darling,” you replied with a warm smile. “I would love to, it is, if Lord Hux would be so kind to read us another fable.”

“He was reading one about how the horse…” He touched his lips with his index finger, a pensive expression taking his childish features.

“The Horse that lost its Liberty,” Hux completed for him, opening the book in the same page of before.

This time, you were the one who furrowed your brows.

“Why?”

“I love horses!” Lux said in his place, his tone as eager and enthusiastic as ever.

All traces of that crying boy from last night were gone. He did not look as a child who had just lost his father. In fact, it seemed he did not even remember Poe and his importance in his life — which was not that great, you reminded yourself.

_And Lux is just four._

Just yesterday you were telling yourself that a child his age had problems grasping the concepts of life and death, you could simply not expect him to keep on crying all day long. That was too much to ask of a child.

Besides, you loved when he smiled.

Just _not_ when Hux was the reason.

You glared at your husband again. He shrugged, and the shadow of a smile tugged the corner of his lips. He seemed very pleased with himself for _again_ making Lux more interested in him than yourself.

How you _hated_ him.

“Believe it or not, Lady Hux, one can read fables without disciplinary thoughts in mind as well.”

You bit your bottom lip, not very keen on giving the answer he deserved in front of Lux.

“Will you read for us, my Lord?” you said instead.

He eyed you with those bluish eyes of his filled with some feeling you could not quite put your finger on, but deduced he was having some fun at your expense.

Lux took you by the hand and approached the couch, where they were both sitting before you arrived and took his seat between you and Hux. The boy leaned against you, as he usually did when you read him a story, and placed your hand on his hair, so you could run your fingers through his ginger locks. You kissed the top of his head and inhaled his sweet scent.

His innocent and seemingly subconscious action brought Hux’s eyes to him, eyeing him with renewed interest.

Bothered with his stare, you cleared your throat and glared at him. He glared back, and his voice was finally heard in the so far silent drawing room.    

*******

“Will you tell him the truth?” Rae Sloane asked as if that was nothing as she the tightened your corset to its maximum.

You gasped and placed one hand over the mirror positioned in the middle of your dressing room to balance yourself. After spending the entire day reading agreements and taking Hux’s young manager, Dopheld Mitaka, to a walk in Hyde Park, she dismissed your Lady’s Maid, stating she would help you herself tonight.

Not very keen on picking an unnecessary fight — even if Rae was just horrible with your hair —, and actually eager to be in her company, you accepted her help — but you would do your hair yourself or just call your Lady’s Maid back. Rae was not touching a strand of your hair. Although proficient with the most complicated hairdos, she always left you with a bugging headache whenever she got near your head.

Right now, she was leaving you breathless.

“Gods, Rae, I can’t breathe!”        

“You have gained weight,” she changed topic as if her last question meant nothing. And in fact, given the current situation, you would say it didn’t.

“I can’t be pregnant,” you replied, fanning yourself with both hands. “We haven’t even…” You bit your bottom lip. Why were you telling her that? “You know… Properly… Well, yes and no.”

She cast a hard glance at you through the mirror. You felt all color leaving your face.

“I am not interested in your intimate life with the General, (Y/N).”

You breathed through your nose and laughed shortly.

“General…” You shook your head, it made her pull even tighter the corset strings. “It’s funny when you call him like that. It’s feels like you’re not his—

“I am not,” she interrupted you, tying the knot firmly in place. She moved away, searching for the skirt of your clothing and you finally breathed slowly. “There is a reason why I never had children, (Y/N). I am not his mother, as you are not Lux’s mother.”

Well, you told yourself that every single night before sleeping and every single day just after you woke up, but hearing those words leaving someone’s lips — someone you considered dearly — in such a crude manner always hurt you.

They felt like a slap to your face.

“You love him as such…” you whispered and bit your bottom lip. Any chance you had of saving a little of your dignity was long gone now.

She gestured for you to stay still as she adjusted the buttons of your dress and smoothed its skirt. It was a gorgeous evening gown; one you prided yourself on owning. With its bluish, black and white colors, it was surely a different piece of what everyone paraded within in the Ton.

Perhaps black was the more appropriate color, but you bet the Duke’s wife would be wearing such color and you refused to be compared to someone’s else — even if someone of higher position in the Ton.     

“My feelings have nothing to do with this mess you’ve created.”

Again, a slap would have hurt less.

“I know nothing of the Ton, (Y/N), as you well know. But let me tell you something, I do know your husband and he will not forgive you if you play him. Tell him the truth. Tonight.”

You bit your bottom lip.

What did she expect you to say? Your statement to the newspaper should be enough. If Lord and Lady Hux were adopting Poe Dameron’s son, it was because the child was not his!

“Could you do it yourself?” you asked, only to be met with a hard glare through the mirror. “You know he listens to you far more than the listens to me.”

She took her time to give you a reply and you feared for your dignity again — it is, if it still existed? When she did not, she left you agape.

“I am calling your Lady’s Maid to help you with your hair.”

*******

If you had to use a word to describe this night, it would be hypocritical. The very same feeling of yesterday at the funeral returned.

No one was there to celebrate Poe’s life or his importance as a Commander in the War — most people there did not even know about their soldiers. On the contrary, they were eager to strengthen their alliances with the Duke and maybe get a closer look at the General and you.

At least you made a far more striking pair than the Duke and his wife, that’s for sure. As expected, everyone was dressing black and your colors contrasted to those present in the Ballroom.

The Duchess was certainly one to set fashion tendencies and every guest expected her to dress black — and she did not disappoint them and neither you. Once again, you were right. People in Ton were so predictable it hurt.

And it was boring.

You cast a glance at Hux over the shoulder of your current partner. A traditional Ball — even one taking place after a burial — required good wine and brandy, music and dances. After having dancing with your husband twice, you had two more partners.

One of them was the hateful Agent Terex — you did your best to seal your lips and prevent yourself from giving him a piece of your mind. The other was Captain Solo — he was known to be a Pirate in the past and whisked you away from a very displeased Lord Terex. Lady Organa’s husband was a sarcastic man who hated Balls and anything even remotely related to the Ton — which was actually refreshing. It was funny how a popular Duchess fell in love with him — everyone knew their marriage to be one of love, no sane woman would marry Han Solo, a poor sailor — after he decided to leave his days as a pirate behind him — the best in the whole world, or so he said.   

Their son, Ben Solo did not come with them, which seemed to please Hux greatly. You would have to know what happened between them back in the War, it seemed to affect their relationship significantly.

Lady Organa and the Duchess Catherine both congratulated you on your and Hux’s decision to adopt Poe’s son. According to the Duchess, _the poor, little thing needed a family more than ever now._ She even said she would adopt him herself — in spite of the fact she had two children already — if no one stepped up to take care of him.

You felt your blood leaving from your face as you forced yourself to smile and hold your tongue. Part of you was taken by an almost incontrollable fury as she cogitated the possibility of taking Lux to herself. You never needed Rae Sloane so much in your entire life! At least Lady Organa was there and changed topics, complimenting you for your dress.

She wore white and orange — Poe’s favorite colors.

Now you were dancing with the Duke of Wellington himself. Hux’s eyes were on you as the musicians stopped playing the melody of the traditional _Strasbourgeoise Cotillion_ and the tune of a waltz began.

A few older ladies gasped — Lady Organa was certainly not one of them — for waltz was a popular dance in France, people in the British Empire still considered it too bold — scandalous even. It was certainly a dance that demanded too much of body closeness.

After the first steps, everyone was forced to stop. Agent Terex was close to the musicians, hitting his goblet of champagne with a spoon he probably got from the dinner offered earlier.

He cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice sounding much louder in the now silent Ballroom. “I propose a toast…”

Before he could continue, every footman filled waiting cups with the finest champagne or gave goblets to those who did not have any.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you waited for his words. That was definitely not what nor whom you had in mind when you thought about the announcement tonight.

It was impossible not to notice the Duke was tense as well.

You searched for Hux’s eyes, but he was not looking at you this time.

“For Commander Dameron.” He finished, raising his goblet.

Everyone in the Ballroom mimicked him. The Duke relaxed visibly.

“And…” Agent Terex continued, his voice denouncing how much he had drank — as if his terrible breath was not enough. “I would like to congratulate Lord Hux and Lady Hux…”

Definitely not what you were expecting — _nor how you were expecting…_

“…for their empathetic and wise decision to adopt Commander Dameron’s son.”

His last words were followed by a minute of silence — in which your husband finally looked at you. Your heart galloped in your chest in rhythmless beats — and then everyone repeated _For Lord and Lady Hux._

A few guests, having their crystal goblets placed over trays the footmen were carrying around, even applauded the announcement.

With the help of Captain Solo, Agent Terex left the small area and the musicians resumed playing. The melody filled the Ballroom and the couples were once again dancing around you and the Duke.

He bowed dutifully in front of you and brought your gloved hand to a courteous kiss.

“It warms my heart to know such a young boy will be well cared for, my Lady.”

This time, you could not discern in his tone if he was being sincere or if that was just another mask. You narrowed your eyes, but there was no time to come to a conclusion, for Hux approached you, followed by the Duchess of Wellington.

The Duke slowly let go of your hand and instead offered his arm to his wife. A sigh of relief left you as soon as you saw them ready to leave you and your husband alone.

“We just hope—” the Duke began, his eyes fixed on Hux, “that he won’t be forgotten as soon as you finally bear Lord Hux his heir.”

With him positioned behind you, it was impossible to see his reaction — if he expressed any. Part of you expected such direct attack from the Duchess, but she seemed far politer than her husband. Another part of you tried to come up quickly with a response that would show he picked a fight with the wrong people, but Hux beat you to that. Taking your gloved hand between his and bringing it to his lips, he said,

“Your worries are groundless, Your Grace. Lady (Y/N)’s love for Lux is immensurable.” He placed a small kiss on your cheeks. “Now, if you are worried about heritage, then perhaps you should ask your own wife about her opinion.”

A small gasp left both you and the Duchess. The Duke’s face contorted in anger, but he remained silent. He would not risk his image over something that would have the entire Ton talking for weeks to come and the gossip columns in The Times making a fuss about next morning.

It did not mean you did not feel sorry for the poor woman. It was a truth universally acknowledged, that His Grace did not seek her anymore. Their marriage was one of convenience nowadays and even if she bore him two sons, everyone questioned their first offspring.

They departed in silence. Both you and Hux bowed dutifully. You had no idea how differently you could have acted. You shifted your attention to him, about to ask if he was ready to leave when he pulled you to him.         

“That was mean,” you said as soon as he placed his hand on your waist and directed your left to his shoulder. “Even for you.”

He did not give you an answer. Not that you expected one. You should scold him for saying such outrageous words to a Duke, nonetheless. And yet, you saw yourself thank him in your mind. Although you considered his reply disrespectful and even offensive, you could not blame him for defending you. After all, the Duke was the first to treat you as a mere offspring repository.

He saw that coming.

People would talk — _he would talk_ — if Lord Hux did not defend the honor of his own wife.

Instead, you saw yourself saying, “I thought you were mad at me.”

There was another moment of silence as he guided you in light and fluid steps. He was a great dancer, you always thought that. Your heart always accelerated whenever he took you to the center of the Ballroom. As an adolescent, you would always watch him dancing with other ladies and get jealous of them for having his attention all to themselves.

In the shadows, you watched him and imagined yourself in their place, in his arms, dancing with him — you even dreamed of kissing him. It was with indecorous happiness — for no woman should take so much pleasure in such simplistic occasion — that you had your first dance with him when you debuted in the Season, when you were eighteen years old.

_Seven years…_

You were startled to realize so many years had gone by. After that dance, your life changed forever. With eighteen you had your first kiss with him. With nineteen you got engaged to him. With twenty, the two of you got married.

Touching his cheeks — a highly improper move that had guests all around you gasping —, you furrowed your brows. There was no time to say anything, for he began, 

“You fooled me.” His voice was cold; his eyes expressionless. “I must say I am impressed by your strategy.”

Brows still furrowed, you removed your hand from his face and moved it to his shoulder. He used that opportunity to bring you closer to him — the closeness between your bodies far more shocking for those people unused to such scandalous dances —, his mouth on your ear, so no one would hear his next words,

“You say you love Lux, but all you did recently was using him to improve your social position in the Ton.”

As if burned, you stopped dancing altogether and glared at him. If not for the guests all around you, you probably would have hit him right in the face.

Perhaps punched him.

You had never punched anyone, but the need was never as great as it was right now. Biting your bottom lip, you let your fingers slip from his hand.

His eyes were focused on yours as he ran his right hand over your face. The need to step back and get away from him was almost overwhelming but you held yourself in place.

“You say I have changed… But you are someone else entirely, (Y/N).” He ran his fingers over your bottom lip, it trembled slightly as the need to bite him _— spite on him, cry because of him —_ took over you. “I expected so much more from you.”

When you finally found your voice, it was broken and hoarse. Your eyes were full of tears you did your best to cover.  

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Hux.”

*******

After you arrived from the Ball, you entered Lux’s bedroom and dismissed his tutoress. You expected him to be sleeping soundly, but he was wide awake. You sniffed and blinked twice to dissipate the need to cry.   

He was holding between his chubby fingers the very drawing that fell from your book when that very fateful day when Hux returned to your life.

And how you hated it.

_Hated him._

Every ounce of love you felt for him was slowly dying whenever he addressed you with his cruel, unkind words.

 _You are a bad liar,_ a voice in your head said. Part of you knew that it only hurt — his words, his behavior, his coldness — because deep down — in the very bottom of your heart — you still loved him. Part of you tried to reassure you that you loved the man from the past. Not the man who came back from a successful campaign in Waterloo.

You shook your head and concentrated on Lux. He did not realize you were in his chambers. He was so engrossed with the drawing, he could not have seen a real horse trotting in front of him.  

It was Hux’s drawing. One he had made in one afternoon the two of you escaped to a picnic. Your lady in waiting was left behind — only to be harshly punished by your father later; that poor creature — and you found yourself alone in his company. As your father could not suspect any illicit nor lusty activity between you, Hux took his time to draw your horse.

Obviously, it did not prevent you from rolling in the grass — with you landing over him and wresting with him for such prized position — and kissing till your lips were aching and swollen.

Those were indeed happy days…

… and you could only regret that they were gone, and you were stuck with a control freak and pale shadow of the albeit melancholic, so very romantic man you had fallen in love with.

You recalled that afternoon as if it happened just yesterday. When the two of you were parting, he kissed your hand in a gentlemanly gesture in front of your father and handed him the proof of how well behaved while he was alone with you. In your fingers, though, there was a small paper with your face sketched and a small message written in a careless manner.

_Soon, beloved._

Of that small sketch of your face there was nothing left. Your father made sure to rip it apart when he caught the two of you kissing in Hux’s study room — he had reasons to believe the worst; you were sitting over his desk and he was between your legs. His hair was disheveled and your hands were between his clothes, touching his chest. That was how far you went, but your father was sure you had disgraced yourself that day and it took you a while, and daily doses of humiliation extended to Hux as well, to prove him wrong. He tried to do the same to the other drawing, but you placed it in your clothes before he could get his hands on it.

Lux was holding this drawing close to his chest and looking at it with the innocent passion only a child could muster. 

You approached him and sat on his bed.  

“You really like him, don’t you?” you asked, running your fingers through his cheeks. It seemed to tickle him, for he giggled and slapped your hand gently away.

Offering your hand to him you helped him sit on the bed, you watched as he handed you the drawing as well, so you could place it on his bedside table.

He nodded his response.

 _The boy has a sweet tooth,_ he had said last night when the two of you talked in the dead of the night in each other’s arms. _He likes toffee._

“Because he gives you sweets,” you tried, your voice a bit unsure.

His smile was so bright it could rival the very sun. Although you loved to know Lux could like someone like Hux instead of merely hating him, it worried you greatly that he could be hurt in the near future. For you knew for sure Hux did not know how to love or how to reciprocate anyone’s feelings.

He merely ‘ _liked’_ Lux for now because he firmly believed to be his father. It was very convenient for him to father a son — the Royal Family would look kindly upon any man having a family. Once he believed you and accepted the truth, you doubted he would be so willing to give the boy even a sideway glance.

_But his words…_

_…they mean nothing…_

_…they must…_

You were conflicted. Part of you wanted to find excuses for his behavior — even if you knew there was none — and another part wanted to label him as Satan himself.

The mere thought made your heart break. Albeit strict, Armitage Hux was a man who exerted some sort of fascination over people. _He was alluring._ And people who came to know him, loved him easily. Rae Sloane, for one, did love him. Needless to mention your own feelings for the man… and now Lux loved him as well…   

Oh, Gods! You would kill Hux if he made your Little Lord suffer!

“Yes, and because he will give me his horse.” His high-pitched voice dragged you back to the present time.

You looked at him with widened eyes, surprise all written over your face.

“He will?”

Lux nodded. His smile easy on his face. He brought both hands to his eyes and rubbed them a few times.

“It’s time to sleep, Little Lord.” You helped him under the covers and ran your hands through his hair. “Actually, you should have slept hours ago.”

He shook his head.

Too tired, but too excited to give in to sleep.

_So stubborn…_

“He will teach me to ride too, Mama!”

His excitement seemed to die a bit as he yawned.

“When I get big and old.”

He focused his chestnut eyes on you and asked, his voice no more than a worried whisper, “will that take long?”

You laughed a bit and kissed his forehead.

“It will come soon enough, Little Lord.”

Sooner than I expect.

_Or want._

**_***_ **

You were returning to your chambers when you stopped in front of Rae’s bedroom and recalled her words.

_Tell him the truth._

You bit your bottom lip and shook your head.

No.

You were not going to talk to him.

Not even if your life depended on it.

_Tonight._

She would be very disappointed in you next morning.

But what could you do?

Hux made it very clear he did not believe a word you said about loving him, about Lux’s parentage. He did not believe you. Period.

It made your heart ache and you felt highly stupid for still having feelings for him. He was the last person in the universe who deserved your love.

Heavens, he did not believe you when you said you loved Lux — your most precious thing. The light of your life. 

You did your best not to recall his words, they were to cruel and made your heart sore and small.

Shaking your head, you opened the doors of your chambers, only to find him sitting in the anteroom, a cigar between his fingers and a glass with brandy resting on the coffee table.

It was very rare to see him smoking. He was not a man of vices. In fact, this current Hux in front of you was a very meticulous man, a man who controlled and was not controlled by anyone or anything.

A man who hurt and never got hurt.

His words returned to you with full force.   

_You say you love Lux, but all you did recently was using him…_

You cut his voice in your mind, shaking your head and walking to the bedroom. He did not spare you even a single glance.

The words continued, this time almost a chant.

_You say you love Lux…_

Biting your bottom lip, you removed your dressing gown and held it in your arms.

_You say you love Lux…_

“Enough!” It took you a while — and a confused stare from him — for you to realize you had said the words aloud. You even brought both hands to your mouth in a mortified gesture, but you shook your head.

_Tell him the truth._

You were trembling.

With rage.

With disgust.

With disappointment.

With love for Lux.

_…for him…_

But you were also trembling with hate.

For him.

For yourself.

For his father.

For _your_ father.

You walked to him. Stopped right in front of him. And took his glass of brandy, taking the liquid all at once.

If you were to say the truth — _the ugly truth —_ you had to have at least some alcohol running through your veins.

“Do you want to hear the truth?”

He did not give you a reply.

His bluish eyes were focused on you. Intense. Burning with a cold flame that hurt you more than his words. In a dismissive gesture, he brought the cigar to his lips.

It was clear he did not want to hear whatever you had to say.

But now he would.

You would make sure he did.

“My father hated you.”

If these words bothered him you would never know, for he did not how any reaction to them. It was well known that your father disapproved greatly of him and his ancestry.

_A bastard!_

_You gave yourself to a useless bastard!_

He had called Armitage a bastard in countless occasions. His own father called him that every once in a while. Not every day. _No_. It would be the same of reminding himself he could only produce an heir — any heir — outside wedlock. It would remind him of his own failure.

You braced yourself for the next words.

“He would never allow any child of yours to live.”

That made Hux’s shoulders tense. He sat straighter in the couch and lowered the cigar to the cinder-box.

“Did he…” He let the question in the air. He could not even look at you. His eyes were cast on the floor. Your negative reply made him cast a glance at you with some relief. “I would kill him if he—

“No. But he laughed at me when my menses came.”

It still hurt to recall his happiness while you cried yourself to sleep in Rae’s arms. Your heart was flooded with fondness for this woman who took you under her care as if you were her own child.

_There is a reason why I never had children._

She was a far better mother than most mothers you had met in your life — your own included.

“He was happy that it did not take root. It was not even six months after that and upon your disappearance that he decided to marry me off to another man.”

His lips were pursed into a thin line…

…And you thought that you saw some anguish in his eyes…?

You shook your head. You were reading too much into his reactions. It was only natural that he would be mad at your father — men all over the Empire considered women to be their properties. Hux was no different.

“But then, he suddenly stopped.”

He furrowed his brows.

No words left his lips.

His silence was never so welcomed before.

“It took me and Rae a while to figure it out… But he was having an affair with a village girl in Southampton.” You sat beside him and took the cigar. You had never smoked before — the only time you tried, you did it wrong and ended up with a coughing fit. He took it away from you and brought it to his lips.

“Go on.”

You bit your bottom lip, regretting the fact that you did not have anything alcoholic to drink in your chambers.

“This girl…” You looked down. “This girl had your hair… but chestnut eyes.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line.

“You know… Don’t you?” you asked, your voice broken.

He nodded.

For long, uncountable minutes there was only the sound of the cigar becoming ashes in the cinder-box. A sepulchral silence enveloped you.

Subconsciously, your hands sought his and your fingers entwined.

“I suspected it,” he finally admitted it, looking at your palms pressed together. He ran his thumb over your pulse absentmindedly. 

“She was younger than you and me,” you continued in a whisper. “But she was the legitimate daughter your father never knew he had. My father—

You did not realize you were crying till you felt his fingers on your face, wiping them away.

“Is a monster.”

He brought you to the comfort of his arms. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and cried your heart out. It had been long since you let yourself think about this story.

“Was a monster.”

He ran his fingers through your hair, trying to comfort you. It only made you cry more.

“She was no more than a child. He…”

“Forced her,” he finished for you; his voice no more than an emotionless whisper.

This made you cry harder.

He had never met his sister. He never would.

Your father was truly a monster. The worst kind of monster. Because he hated Armitage and the prospect of him having his title — even if he desperately needed Armitage’s money — revolted, _sickened him_ , he forced himself upon your husband’s only living parent. Thus, their offspring — unlike yours — would be fit to have his _damned_ title.

In his eyes, you were no better than a whore — the only daughter he had had given herself to a bastard.    

“Lux is my nephew,” he said, holding you by the nape and forcing you — albeit not unkindly — to face him.   

You nodded.

“And my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! xD  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> It was funny writing this and when I was finished I was... did I really write that? And I don't know if that's a good think or not, actually. I'll let you be the judge here. I decided to let go of my insecurities and post it xD
> 
> I know this chapter has some difficult and strong topics, but I hope you understand that women were no better than sperm deposit at that time (many men still believe in it and sometimes we let ourselves believe in it). The world is not kind to women (to any minority at that) and I decided to put it here in this story. I hope you don't mind. It's not a feminist agenda (I hate when people do that in stories. If you write real characters, with flaws and virtues, that's not necessary. Your female characters will be what whatever feminists want to see portrayed in fiction), but it's not a fairy tale with rainbows and sunshine alone either. Not that I don't like stories like this, but I don't think it suits In the General's Bed.
> 
> I don't know... I don't know what to expect of you with this chapter, but I do hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> Stay tuned, tomorrow there'll be an update for Lie to Me!
> 
> I love you all and till next week xD


	5. To misjudge a General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beloved readers xD
> 
> Well, I apologize for my lateness in updating this story, but in my defense, real life is getting busy and I was too hooked upon Lie to Me. Besides, this story is a bit more difficult to write as well - historical information to check, a bit of customs and etc. Hope you forgive me!
> 
> But here I am! Ladies and Gentleman, I give you chapter 5 of In the General's Bed - To misjudge a General!  
> As it took me sixteen days to come up with another installment, this chapter is almost 8k long. 7770 words, according to my MSOffice xD.
> 
> As always, my biggest thanks to anyone who have left me kudos (almost 100 in 4 chapters, I consider this story a total success already, thank you!), increased the hits, bookmarked it and of course, took their time to leave me some words of encouragement and criticism (Alexia_Imriel_Courcel, Bowieisawizard, Venix, EmmyLou and annonymous). This chapter is dedicated to all of you. And, of course, to the anon who sent me an ask in tumblr asking when I would update the regency au. I hope this brightens your day! xD 
> 
> And for the Brazilian who asked me if I had seen "therealmcgee" Regency!Hux, I totally did. It was because of that fanart that I had the idea of starting this story in the first place. Please don't tell! xD
> 
> Now, happy reading. See you in the second AN.

YOU WOKE UP STARTLED.

Subconsciously, your hands patted the side of the bed looking for Armitage. _Empty._ He was nowhere to be found.

With a disappointed sigh, you ran your hands through your tangled hair, all the while doing your best not to cry — from frustration or anger or whatever.

The _‘I’m giving you no heir whatsoever’_ rule had gone to hell last night, as you could be very pregnant as of now.

A groan of utter despair left you.

A click on the door made you shift on the bed and adjust the blankets over your naked frame. You looked up to see Rae stretching the curtains open. She wore a serious expression — not that you had seen any other, but you thought she was even more _I’m-all-business_ than usual.

“I am assuming you told him.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled the pillow to your face. You usually loved bright mornings, but specifically today you hated it; all you wanted was for the world to end in rain, so you could sleep to the next week till you forgot your miserable existence.

Why did you have to be so foolish? How could you just give in?

Instead, you tried to humor yourself by provoking Rae Sloane, “Oh, good morning to you too, milady.”

As expected, there was no answer on her part. Only silence. It forced you to remove the pillow from your face and sit on the mattress, clutching the blankets to your chin. She sat on the ottoman, not very keen on getting near the place where you and Hux had… well… had sex… _made love?_ You did not know what to make out of it — it is the situation between you and your husband and not Rae’s antics.

If the circumstances were any different you would have laughed at her face and said you had used the ottoman, but aside the fact you would be telling a lie, you could not think of joking right now.

“I feel stupid,” you finally said, looking at her face. If you expected to find comfort there, you would have to look somewhere else. Her expression denounced nothing — not judgment, nor understanding.

“For doing what’s expected of you?” she retorted, not unkindly. If coming from anyone else, those words would have felt like a slap, but you understood what Rae meant. She only said what society expected of women like you.

 _For loving him,_ you could have said, but Rae, just like Hux, had no time to talk about love. You doubted she even believed in it.

“Is that why you never got married?”

She nodded.

You opened your mouth to say something, but she beat you to it, “You would. You didn’t want anything else.”

It was your time to nod. You felt the telltales of tears in your eyes. You rubbed your nose and swallowed hard.

“I wanted him to love me…” you commented quietly after a while.

You expected her to be keep her opinion to herself, as usual, but her answer came quick and this time her words were meant to hurt, “Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N). Love is not everything in a marriage.”

You could almost hear Hux’s words.

_Marriage is not about love, you should know that by now._

“I married him because I love him.”

Rae snorted.

The sound was so much alike Hux it made you want to throw up.

“You married him because _your father needed_ money and he married you because he needed a title. Feelings had nothing to do with it.”

You swallowed…

…and bit your bottom lip to prevent the need to cry. Her words stung — more than they should have, more than should be right.

Because… honestly, you knew they rang true.

Everything Rae Sloane ever said — to you, to anyone — was truthful. Even if they hurt — she knew how to hurt you, how to hurt people —, she never told a lie. It was against her code — whatever that was.   

“And stop with these childish rules of yours and give him a damned heir.”

You even thought about opening your mouth to protest, but her serious eyes kept you silent. You bit your bottom lip.

“I know you want to be the wife of a Prime Minister. Adopting Lux won’t be enough to convince the King or the Ton of your aptitude as a couple to take such position.”

She rose from the ottoman and opened the door for the drawing room. From the bed, you could see a bathtub in the center of the room and your lady’s maid throwing some perfumed lotions in it.

“Now get up,” she said, her lips pursed into a harsh line. “We shall take Lux to Hyde Park and I need your help with a few decisions concerning the brewery in Ireland.”

You wanted to say she could go to hell together with that brewery of Hux, but you bit your tongue. She said that with the best of intentions in mind. Although she knew she hurt you — she wanted to hurt you —, she had only your best interests at heart.

“Fine.” You clutched the blankets to your frame as you strolled out of the bedroom. “But for the record, whatever decision we make together, I don’t want Hux to know.”

The sides of her lips tilted into a small, barely noticeable smile. You caught yourself mimicking her even before her answer came to fruition in her mouth, “He won’t even dream of it, milady.”

*******

“ _Mama!_ ”

You shrugged from your thoughts and looked at him. He had his doe, chestnut eyes totally focused on you, his ginger brows arched in confusion. You had been playing quoits for the past half-hour — Lux did not leave any room for you and Rae to have a decent conversation, which frustrated you —, but you have spaced out more than once.

“I’m sorry, Little Lord, I got carried out,” you replied, patting his hair lovingly. He giggled a bit, before putting on a serious façade. He held your hands between his, much smaller and chubby ones, getting you away from his head, “Oh, right!” You smiled. “You’re a grown up and grown-ups don’t have their hair messed up by another grown-up.”

He nodded, very much focused on your fingers. You tilted your head a little, recalling how he used to hold onto them for dear life when he was but a few days old. It was still weird to think four years had gone by since you first held him in your arms and lulled him to sleep. 

“And neither they call someone their _mama.”_ Rae stated, her dark eyes thoroughly focused on you. Her hawk-like attention made you shiver and drop Lux’s hands immediately.

“They… _don’t?”_ he asked in confusion. His brows shot up, his eyes were very much widened. He knew that depending on Rae’s answer, he would have to let go of his first — and favorite — word in the world. “Why not?”

“Because it not part of an adult’s vocabulary.” Another voice — different and so foreign —, with a melodious and almost sugary accent, made the three of you look up. A few meters from you, casting a shadow over the glorious, warm sun, stood the figure of someone you did not expect to see anytime soon.

Before you could help yourself, your hand shot to your womb.

Your action did not go unnoticed by neither Rae, nor Hux. He narrowed his eyes at you; his face growing somber at your gesture. The first, however, was the one to clear her throat, dragging your attention to the matter at hand. Your hand fell to your sides immediately.

“Lady Sindian,” you greeted in a low voice. You bowed your head, but did not give her the curtesy of a proper bow.

She pursed her lips into a thin line. It was crystal clear she simply hated when someone did not follow the proper etiquette, even if this someone was above her social status. As a Marquise, you held more power in your hands than she did with her Countess title.

You could almost say she was seething inside, dying to correct you in your antics. Hux’s eyes were still on you, intense and unreadable.

“Marchioness, what a pleasure meeting you after such lengthy retirement.” She performed an almost dramatic bow. “I hope you found the countryside to your liking.”

You exhaled long and deeply. She was playing a dangerous game and you did not know how long you would be able to control yourself, before you gave the answer she so deserved. You cast an accusatory glance at Hux, not at all surprised to find his face blank and expressionless.

He offered his hand for you to take, helping you to your feet. His hand stationed at the small of your back was no more than a warning for you to think through your next words.

You almost snorted.

He _still_ _cared_ about her opinion.

The need to put Lady Carise Sindian back in her place grew stronger. You swallowed. You really did not care about his past lovers — you knew that contrary to you, he had had others before your marriage —, but this woman could be as hateful as your own father. _If not worse._

Perhaps she was hateful because your father was hateful to her in the first place, but at the moment, all rationality had left you.

The sound of Lux clicking his tongue in a childish manner to distract himself of your tiring and boring grown-up interaction made the three of you look at him. Your eyes grew softer at the sight of him making noises with his mouth.

“Lady Sindian, I want you to know Lux Dameron,” you said, placing both hands on his small shoulders. He stopped making those noises altogether and cast an adoringly glance at you. “Lux, this is Lady Carise Sindian.”

He looked at you, and then at Rae. At her nod, he bowed dutifully — an imitation of a perfect, even if diminutive, Lord. Still shy and conscious of his missing front tooth, he did not say anything. Rae offered her hand to him and he accepted it readily.

“He’s…” She looked at you and then her attention shifted to Hux; her eyes took her time analyzing his face, “got a very remarkable red hair.”

You even opened your mouth to reply, but his hand running soothingly over your arm shut you for once. He took the opportunity to entwine your fingers with his, squeezing them lightly. It made you freeze in place, but conscious of her rapt attention, you did not move away.

Lady Carise narrowed her eyes at the gesture. A small smile lifted the corner of her lips. She knew you were nervous, so you tried to relax in his arms, aware of her curious and so very cunning eyes on you. 

“I admire your attitude,” she started, wetting her lips. “It’s a very touching and beautiful gesture.”

You swallowed, not very keen on giving her any reply, but as Hux squeezed your fingers harder, you forced yourself to speak, “Thank you, Countess.”

She made a perfect curtsy, even though her astute eyes remained focused on your husband. You pursed your lips into a thin line.

“I assume I will be seeing the two of you in two days’ time.”

When she was far away, you yanked your arm from his grasp and turned to face him; your lavender dress floated around you.

“You should have let me give her the answer she deserved.”

He moved his hand to remove a strand of hair from your face, but you took a step back, broadening the distance between you. His arms fell to his sides.

“I would rather not give her any reasons to keep pestering you or Lux.”

“Or Rae,” you replied. “She acted as if Rae didn’t even exist. Just because she doesn’t have a nobiliary title, it doesn’t mean she’s a servant. Or a slave. She treated Rae as if she were a slave, Armitage!”

Actually, she was a servant. She has always been and you knew that. However, you considered her family and you wanted her to be treated as such. Not a lowly servant who became instantly invisible in the company of people such as Lady Carise or even the — ugh, how you hated him — disgusting Agent Terex.

“Rae can take care of herself,” Hux replied quietly.

It irked you.

His apparent concern for your well-being.

You did not need that.

You did not _want_ that.

“I can take care of myself very well, thank you.” You turned on your heels to follow Rae and Lux to the carriage, only to find them already gone. You grimaced. Rae Sloane would pay for that. “That’s what I have been doing for the last five years.”

*******

It was barely an hour after you returned from the park when you found yourself in front of his study room. You raised your hand to knock at the double doors, but held yourself.

You were still angry at him.

You did not want to see his face.

You did not want to be in his presence.

You did not want to talk to him.

However, he had politely asked for your presence.

Not demanded.

_But asked._

He knew that otherwise you would just ignore him and mind your own business — which, at the time, involved picking a dress for the upcoming Ball at Lady Sindian’s manor in couple of days. You had no intention of accepting her invitation, but Lady Organa’s small note had you changing your mind and besides, after today’s event, you knew that hiding from her would do your image — Hux’s image — no good.

Breathing through your nose, you knocked on the wooden doors. His voice came shortly after, welcoming you with a firm, even if low, _Enter._

You placed your hand on the doorknob and slowly poked your head in. Focused on a series of reports, he did not raise his eyes to face you. And even after you closed the door quietly after yourself and stopped in front of his desk, he merely ordered you to take your seat.

After a few seconds passed in silence, you cleared your throat, “Listen, can we make this quick?” You breathed deeply. You could distinguish the smell of tobacco in the air. “I have somewhere else to be.”

You even turned around, but before you could go far, his voice was finally heard, “I never allowed you to leave.” You looked back at him, your eyes narrowed. “Now, sit.”

“I said I have somewhere else to be,” you replied, doing your best not to snap at him.

“I already asked Rae to take Lux to the eatery in Mayfair.”

You raised your chin, keen on saying that was not where you had to be, but decided against it. It would be a waste of precious time. He already knew the truth. And if he sent Rae away with Lux, it was because he had an important matter to discuss with you.

“Now sit.”

Begrudgingly, you did as he said, taking your seat in front of him. He had a bottle of brandy in his desk, which he opened and poured some into a glass for him. You waited for him to fill a second glass, which did not happen.

You arched a brow...

…and reached for the glass yourself. He held your wrist between his hands a bit more forcefully than usual, making you gasp.

His impossibly blue eyes were narrowed.

“We won’t know until a few weeks later…” you commented quietly, gazing into his orbs. He let go of your wrist and you quickly recoiled it, cradling it with your other hand, your fingers rubbing soothing circles over your pulse.

“We shouldn’t take any risks,” he replied. His voice not giving away any indication of excitement nor hope. It seemed like any other chore he had to perform.

It made you bit your bottom lip to suppress the need to cry in frustration. It had been a while since you last felt this humiliated. You wondered if this day could go any worse.

And as much as Rae Sloane’s words rang true — they always did —, you could not help but regret last night. 

_…give him a damned heir…_

You rose to your feet.

Easier said than done.

If after your first night together you hoped for a child to be growing up in your womb, this time you hoped for his seed to be as weak as your legs right now. You did not want for it to take root in your body.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice genuinely curious.

You did not look at him as you headed to the exit. You even touched the doorknob, but before you could leave, he was behind you, both hands firmly placed on the wood, caging you between the door and his arms.

It took him a while to say any words, which only made your heart sped at the proximity of your bodies. He lowered his head to yours, his warm breath against your ear as he twirled a strand of your hair in his index finger.

“What is wrong with you?”

Aware you could not break free from his grasp — even if your bodies were quite not touching —, you shifted, facing him. You placed both hands on his chest, to keep him at bay, but that only served to remind you how you sank your short, polished nails in that very same spot last night.

As if burned, you let your hands fall to your sides.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” you finally said, your whispered tone made him inch a bit closer to hear you better. “I am just not in the mood for any games today.”

He arched a ginger eyebrow at your words.

You did not know if he was genuinely confused or…

…if he was playing you.

“I thought that after last night, you would be more pliant to a conversation—

You did not let him finish his sentence, hitting him square in the face. It tilted to the side abruptly. Your eyes widened as he shifted his attention back to you; a fillet of blood tinted his lip. You looked back at your left hand, finding the same crimson color smeared over your wedding band.

“Because of course I would be _pliant_ after I woke up alone in the bed for the second time after you have your way with me!”

His nostrils flared visibly, but he did not express in words how offended he was at your words or your slap. A perfect gentleman, he stepped away from you and returned to his desk. He placed both hands over the wooden surface, his back facing you.

“I trust you had a good morning with Lady Sindian. Thanks to you, mine was unforgettable.”

He did not give you an answer.

Of course he did not.

So you pressed him, keen on yanking at least a loud reaction from him. A sharp intake of breath and nostrils flaring would simply not do. You wanted to make him feel guilty, to make him understand your disappointment and anger. _Pain._ He had to know what he did to you with his dismissive posture yet again.

“…Perhaps reviving the glorious days of your past with her.”

He squared his shoulders…

…and that was all.

You wanted to take off your shoes and throw it at his head. Perhaps after a concussion he would consider you worthy of his attention.

Instead, you just watched as he lit his cigar and brought it to his lips, inhaling the smoke sharply.

“Your jealousy is flattering, but misplaced.” He exhaled the smoke this time, creating circles in the air. “Now, leave.” His toneless voice was more than enough to make you legs go weak and the tears prick the corner of your eyes.

You wanted him to feel guilty, but all you accomplished was to stroke his ego.

Before he could see you cry — because of him, because you hated him, hated to feel anything for him —, you left the study, closing the door forcefully behind yourself. You had barely taken two steps away in the corridor when you heard a loud noise. It was not needed to be a genius to know he had thrown everything from his desk in anger.

With tears in your eyes, you felt your lips curving into a small, but victorious smile.

At least you managed to yank some _fucking_ reaction from him.

*******

You woke up a good couple of hours later. After that ridiculous fight — which you lost, you were perfectly aware of that —, you felt spent. _Exhausted, really._

Heading back to your room, you did not even remove your clothes before you fell on the mattress. You missed lunch and given the darkness of your chambers you realized you missed supper as well.

And even if you felt famished, you were glad you were not there to see his hateful face or endure Rae’s analytical dark eyes over the two of you.

There was a light knock on your door and the whispered voices of Lux and his tutoress made you straighten your dress and your messed hair.

“Come in.” Your voice was still heavy with sleep as you walked towards the anteroom. Behind the preceptress, Rae Sloane stared at you with raised eyebrows. She held a folder closer to her chest, making you wonder if she had some Aesop fables stored there to read for you out loud.

You swallowed, but decided not to give her much attention. You kneeled in front of Lux and adjusted his pajamas.

“I brought him to say goodnight, Your Ladyship,” the tutoress said. “He was worried about you.”

“Aww, were you, Little Lord?” You tapped his small nose, making him giggle. He put both arms around your neck and gave you a tight — or as tight as possible for his diminutive and chubby frame — hug.

You embraced him back, holding him flush against your frame. You kissed his temples lovingly. The moment between you did not last, however, for Rae cleared her throat, dragging your attention to her.

“Your soup will get cold,” she said, motioning for the preceptress to take Lux away. Your lady’s maid entered the anteroom fully, placing the tray with your soup over the coffee table. The young girl excused herself shortly after.  

“I am not hungry.” You tightened your hold around him. What you last wanted right now was another sort of lecture from her.

Sensing the heavy atmosphere, he broke away from you and placed a toffee in your hand. You furrowed your brows, unable to understand his action.

“It’s for Lord Hux.” He leaned into you and whispered in your ear — even if it sounded too loud for everyone to hear — “He is in a bad mood.”

You smiled in spite of yourself.

Bestowing a brief kiss upon his cheeks — which he wiped with his chubby hand —, you prompted him towards his tutoress. He took her hand, and together they left the anteroom.

Rae Sloane closed the door behind herself. You gulped as her words reached your ears.

“We have to talk.”       

*******

It was with some sort of surprise that you found yourself sitting on the bed with Rae behind you, her hands working swiftly in your hair. You even thought about telling her to stay away from you, but decided against it.

She had yet to say anything, and the way her fingers combed your strands into a loose braid made you sleepy all over again. You had just eaten, and the hot soup made you more compliant to get some more rest.

You even dozed off a few times, but a firm tug in your hair made you yelp in pain.

“What was that for?” You turned to face her, snapping her hands away from you.

She glared at you, her face hiding nothing of her discontentment. “I asked you a question.”

“You could have asked nicely again,” you replied. “And if you are going to tell me I was childish earlier, I know that. You don’t have to lecture me nor defend your precious Armitage.”

It was clear she would have rolled her eyes if she were any other woman. If that was not an act bellow her.

“I don’t have time to defend that moron,” she replied, her hands falling to her lap. “But my heart is swelled with pride that you know you were stupid and childish.”

Your mouth opened in a big O.

You did not know if you should feel flattered that she agreed with you — more than a moron, Hux was a jerk and you hated him — or offended that she thought you stupid and childish.

Closing you lips into a thin line, you took the hairclip from the mattress and put it in your tresses yourself.

“And what do you want?” you asked after a few seconds in silence.

“To talk about the brewery.”

You furrowed your brows.

And the next words to leave her lips left you completely flabbergasted, “I need your help.”

_What?_

“And how could I help you?” You reached for her forehead. She was surely sick. She snapped your hands away harshly. You let out a breathy _ouch_ at her action. “I thought Armitage had Lord Mitaka to oversee his business personally in Ireland.”

You hesitantly accepted the folder she offered. Opening the files, you were startled to see the numbers. In the last two years, the brewery showed a decline in almost every important aspect of production. The sales were compromised and even the production was below average for this time of the year.     

“That’s…” You wetted your lips. “Worse than I expected.” You took a few minutes analyzing the reports she had in her possession, humming here and there as you came across a decline in numbers. The percentage of dismissed employees was astounding, even for a business as large as that. “I was led to believe the brewery was the second most important in the Kingdom.”

“It was,” she replied quietly. “But it was mismanaged the time he spent away in the War.”

You pursed your lips.

 _Well, he would know if he ever came back,_ you felt like saying. Instead, you asked, “And what does he intend to do with this scenery?”

Her answer came quicker than you expected, “I am showing you this, so you could ask him.”

You threw your head back and laughed.

“He won’t listen to a word I have to say. You know that.”

This time, Rae Sloane rolled her eyes. _She really_ _rolled her eyes._ You stared at her agape, letting go of the reports easily as she snatched them away from you.

“You underestimate your importance in his life.”

 _“You underestimate your importance in his life…_ As if!” You repeated her words mockingly. Not even her narrowed eyes made you stop. “He doesn’t care about me, Rae! If he cared, he would not have left me this morning to confabulate and _gods-know-what_ with that… _Old rag.”_

She breathed deeply through her nose. It was clear she lost her patience with you centuries ago.

“That old rag is my age, (Y/N).”

_Oops._

You even opened your mouth to apologize. To say she was different, classy and very much young for her age, but you knew that one could not buy Rae Sloane with sweet, fake words. You clamped your mouth shut.

_Crap._

“Your jealousy will lead you nowhere.”

“I am not jealous!” You snorted. “Why does everyone think I am jealous?”

“Because you are,” she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked at you and with a calmer tone, she added, “listen, he was with her this morning because he needed a loan.”

You gasped.

“You are too quick to judge him.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks.

“I am—

“I am not done yet.” Her icy tone made you swallow. You nodded, giving her permission to continue — as if she needed it, “You’re insufferable. You say you want him to love you, but do you love him, (Y/N)?”

You opened your mouth, ready to come up with a reply, but she raised her finger, silencing you immediately.

“I don’t think you do.”

Not knowing what to say, you pursed your lips into a thin line. You did not want to hear her words. She simply did not understand. It was not like she could understand — she did not even believe in love, for God’s sake!

Rae rose to her feet, folder under one arm, and walked towards the doors; gray dress swinging behind herself. Before she could leave, however, she looked at you over her shoulders, “You believe you love him, but you don’t.” She placed her hand on the doorknob. “What you love is this romanticized and distorted image of Armitage you created when you were a child.”         

And just like that, she left.   

You stared at the closed double doors agape. Not knowing what to do with her sudden — and unusual — outburst.

Falling back on the bed, you brought the pillow to your face and hit the mattress several times with your legs. How you wished for a torrential rainy day since morning, you would not even leave the comfort of your room in the first place.

Could this day get any worse?

*******

You had no idea what time it was when you woke up startled.

Once more you reached for the bed, only to find it empty. It filled you with… both relief and disappointment. It was paradoxical, you knew, but you wanted him away and closer at the same time.

Rae’s words would not leave your mind.

Plaguing you with their rawness. She was rude. She meant to be. But she did not want to hurt you unnecessarily. She never did anything without some purpose — even if you could not comprehend where she was headed to with that crudity of hers.

You loved Hux.

Of course you did.

You worshiped the very ground he walked on since you were a child. How could this not be love? Besides, Rae Sloane did not love anyone — except for Lux and Hux himself, but that was different. It was not the same kind of love. They were intrinsically different.

As day and night.

As water and fire.

As earth and air.

Of course you romanticized him — which kind of person would not? Reality was not as beautiful as the fantasy. Any sane person fantasized at least a little.  

You bit your bottom lip.

You were giving Rae’s words more attention than they deserved. There were far more pressing matters, such as Hux’s loan. Why in hell would he get a loan from Lady Sindian when he was wealthier than she was?

He was like the wealthier person you had ever met.

It simply made no sense.

You understood that the situation in the brewery was not looking good. Your father always said that desperate times call for desperate measures, but this was a bit too much. Certainly the numbers were not that bad, right? Not to the point he had to align himself to that hideous, greedy creature.

Grabbing your dressing gown from over your ottoman you set to find him. He was probably in his study room — drinking, or smoking — working on his paperwork. _He has always been such a workaholic!_

You opened the door to your anteroom and stepped outside, careful not to wake up anyone. Tiptoeing, you approached one of the windows in the long corridor of the third floor and saw some movement in the stables.

The light was very scarce. It took you a while to identify who was adjusting a saddle on a horse. You squinted your eyes and…   

_Fuck!_

He was leaving.

You quickly ran across the corridor — the thoughts of not awaking anybody left your mind completely — and climbed down the stairs, two steps at a time, sometimes three — or as much as your legs allowed you.

It was only when you reached the outside that you realized your improper clothes and your lack of shoes. You almost yelped as your feet met the cold paving stones of the yard. Yet, you persisted, running towards the stable. _Towards him._

Breathless, and with your heart on the verge of escaping your mouth, you reached him. Mounting his black mare, he was about to cross the gates. You stopped in front of him, holding the animal’s rein with all your might.

Actually, you did not know if you did it to hold yourself on your feet — you were definitely not used to such intense exercise; running after something, whatever it was, was bellow women of your social status — or to stop him.

In any way, the animal got scared and reared. He yanked the reins from your hands and held onto its large neck to remain seated. He looked at one of the guards, and one of them pulled you backwards, moving you away from the entrance. Other two closed the gates in a hurry. 

It took him a while and some soothing words to calm the mare. The animal trotted a few times, neighing loudly. The General patted its neck twice, in a comforting gesture. Then, he shifted his attention to you.

“Have you gone insane?”

You twisted your wrist, breaking free from the servant. He took two steps away from you and bowed his head in an apologetic gesture. Neither you, nor the General paid him any attention.

Walking back towards the mare, you caressed her muzzle slightly, letting her smell you. When the animal neighed appreciatively, you muttered a low, “Sorry, big girl. It was never my intention to scare you.” To your husband, you merely said under your breath, “Also I am not insane.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, moving the animal aside. He gestured for the guards to open the gates once again, but you held his wrist.

Not keen on causing a scene, he broke free from your grasp — using the same technique you used on the guard; he had been the one to teach you that after all — and merely said, “Go back to sleep. Whatever you want to say can wait till tomorrow morning.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks.

“If you leave, I swear to God, Amirtage, I will get another horse and follow you. Dressed. Like. This.”

He glared at you…

…but did nothing else. He did not leave. He did not say he agreed to talk to you. He knew you fairly well by now to know you would follow him, unclothed as you were.

“Where are you going?” you asked, only to receive no answer. You arched your brows and pressed the matter, “I want to go with you.”

“You are not going (Y/N),” he replied, his patience wearing thin. “Now, move.”

You glared at him.

“Give me your coat,” you said to the same guard who had moved you away from the gates. He looked at you and then at the General, not knowing what to do. “That’s an order!” He started peeling his coat slowly, as if too stunned to act more quickly. “Now, remove your trousers as well.”

“Y-Your Ladyship!” His voice was no more than a shocked shriek. He continued to look frantically between you and the General, at loss for words.

Hux’s nostrils flared.

“Go get dressed,” he told you. “You have ten minutes.” A small smile curved your lips. You had won this battle at least. “I will leave you behind if you don’t return in this timeframe.”

To the scared guard — you would have to make it up to him one of these days —, you said, “Keep an eye on him. If he leaves before I return, you can shoot him.”

*******

The General did not say where you were headed to. He simply set a quick pace over his black mare, forcing you to hold onto his arms around you more forcefully.

Although you could ride as easily as you could breath, you decided not to get a horse for yourself. Instead, you decided to ride with your husband. Your back was to his chest and his breath was directly to your ears.

Needless to say, he was rather displeased when you decided to sit astride the mare, like he did — like a man, _what a scandal! —_ but he did nothing to stop you. Instead, he set a punishing pace over his old companion, expecting you to beg him to go slower.

It only made you laugh.

The wind messed your unkept hair and castigated your face — the ear that was not on the receiving end of his warm breath was about to falling off —, but you would be damned before you begged him to stop.

The faster his mare went, the harder you laughed.

After a while, he brought the animal to a stop. You heard the water running before you saw it. It took you a few seconds to realize he had brought you to Hyde Park. You were currently in a far corner of the park. The moon high up in the sky was reflected over the Serpentine lake, shyly illuminating the scenery.

He dismounted and offered you one of his hands, the other moved to your waist, helping you down. Armitage even tried to break apart at the same moment, but you tightened your hold onto his shoulders, keeping your body close to his.

His warm breath fanned your face, but he said nothing. You could smell both tobacco and whisky. It was not that strong; more of a lingering scent. 

“I am sorry,” you whispered after a while.

Now — after being lectured by Rae and thinking your earlier fight through — you knew that besides having had only a business reunion with Lady Sindian — he could not blame you for keep thinking… —, you knew what he meant when he said the words _pliant_ and _last night_ in the same sentence.

He never meant it in a… sexual way. It was about your conversation and the fact you had opened up to each other last night.

Your heart was heavy with guilty. If only you had thought before snapping at him. _If only he had left you a note..._

“I am sorry I snapped at you,” you said quietly. “But you have to understand it’s highly traumatizing for me to wake up alone in our bed.”

Hux took the opportunity to break apart and put a few steps between you. He walked towards the lake, watching the calm water with his arms folded at his chest. The mare, called Millicent — a homage to his old tabby cat that died a few days before your wedding —, far too well trained, merely grazed the grass and occasionally neighed happily.

Stepping towards him, you took your time to stare at the moon through the lake. But before you could get closer, you stopped on your tracks as his bluish eyes set on you, “Care to explain your childish behavior?”

You rolled your eyes, which made him inhale sharply.

Clearly, if you were a child, he was far from the fun adult stereotype.

“Why didn’t you tell me about getting a loan with Lady Sindian?”

He snorted.

“I am impressed Rae did not tell you sooner.”

You felt highly offended at his cruel words. Not for yourself, but for Rae. She did not deserve such harsh treatment from him.

This time, his cold stare was not sufficient to make you stop. You walked to him, stopping right in front of him, invading his personal space. If he stepped back, he would only prove he was intimidated by someone smaller than him, younger than him, _more of a child than him._

“Believe it or not, she is very loyal to you.”

He did not say anything to that.

He knew the truth.

He may not want to acknowledge it, but he knew.     

_Deep down, he knew._

“She came to me about the brewery…” you started, folding your arms at your chest as well. It was a chilly night, and in your hurry to get to him before his ten-minute mark, you forgot to get a mantle.

Always the gentleman, he removed his own and placed it over your shoulders. This time, he did not retreat. He held onto the lapels of his mantle, keeping you close as he whispered, “I wasn’t aware you were an expert.”

You glared at him, but instead of removing his hands from you, you directed yours to his face. If he wanted to intimidate you, he would have to try harder.

“You underestimate me, my Lord.”

When he did not give you a reply, you continued, “You said I am someone entirely different since you left.” You wetted your bottom lip. “You’re right. I have changed, but you have changed as well.”

He did not give you an answer. He removed both hands from his mantle, letting them fall to his sides. You even thought about mimicking him, but you wanted his complete attention. You brushed your fingers against his cheeks, removing a strand of ginger hair from his eyes.

“After you left, I began taking lessons to understand more of your business, in case… you know, I became a widow.”

He nodded, prompting you to continue.

“However, I learned you left someone to take care of the brewery in your pla—

“Rae had total—

“Rae understand about Wars, not about business,” you cut him off, receiving a glare from him. He removed your hand from his face. “At any rate, she was busy taking care of Lux. Like I said, his mother died a few hours after his birth and I didn’t know what to do with a child. Besides, I had to return to my father. We didn’t want him to suspect Lux was well and alive.”

Hux remained in silence for a moment. Calmer now, he brought your hand to his lips, bestowing upon it the briefest of kisses.

His small gesture had your heart accelerating.

“How did Poe come to be Lux’s father?”

You tried to pull your hand away from him, but he held onto you firmly. A gasp left you when he brought his lips to the inside of your wrist, kissing it softly.

“I will tell if you tell why you asked for that old rag’s money.”

His eyes darkened at your words. His caresses stopped instantly.

He let go of your wrist, letting it fall limply to your sides.

A sigh left you. You were back to square one.

_Way to go, (Y/N)!_

“I just don’t understand. It simply makes no sense,” you started, holding his hands between yours. You shook your head, as if to indicate your confusion, “You have more money than she has, that’s why my father married me off to you instead of taking her as his wife.”

He arched his brows.

It was as if he did not expect such reasoning from you. Whenever you talked about your marriage, you always spoke of it as a union of love — even when he clearly said that love had no space in a marriage. It was probably a surprise to see you talking about it like a reasonable adult.

 _Being grown-up sucks,_ you thought to yourself. _If only Lux knew, he wouldn’t trade his childhood for nothing in this world._

Recalling his words, you reached out for the toffee you kept inside your corset. Hux’s eyes darkened at your action. You placed in his hand, closing his fingers around it.

“Lux said you were in a bad mood.”

He snorted, but tightened his hold over it all the same.  

“Anyways,” you began again, dragging his attention back to the topic at hand, “she won’t leave you alone if you allow her to lend you any money. Besides, you know she believes you’re still pining after her.” You bit the inside of your cheeks, unsure where to go after that. You had not planned that far.

He tilted your chin upwards, his thumb eased your bottom lip.

“I am _not_ pining after her.” His words, coupled with how his warm breath caressed your face, sent a shiver down your spine. He pulled your closer, and you stood on your toes so you could brush your lips against his. He broke apart before you could manage that. A defeated sigh left you.

“I’m sure we can find another way,” you whispered, holding tightly onto his hand. If he would not let you kiss him…

“We?” he asked; brows arched in surprise. He brushed his nose against yours, his lips skimming against your jaw with purpose, but he never placed them over yours. It was getting increasingly difficult to have a straight conversation with him at this point. He took your earlobe between his teeth, applying some pressure. A moan of both pleasure and frustration left you. “What do you mean by _we_?”

You swallowed.

“We’re married, Armitage. It’s time we start acting as such.” You pursed your lips into a thin line. It was time you started acting like the adult you were. If Rae and even he himself always accused you of being childish, it was probably because you behave like that most of times. “We won’t accomplish nothing if we keep fighting every second.”

He broke apart from you.

You were a bit dizzy after his ministrations.

“You are right,” he conceded. “But I have to take her offer.”

“Why?” Your eyes were widened. “Goddammit, Amirtage, haven’t you heard a word of what I just said?”

Holding onto your chin, he brushed his lips against yours. Finally giving you the kiss you yearned so much for since this conversation took a flirtatious turn. He did not linger more than a few seconds, but it was sufficient to make you hum in contentment. 

“I did, my dear wife,” he said, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You sighed. He ran the back of this forefinger over the side of your neck, making you shiver. You bit your bottom lip when he enclosed his hand around your throat — just like he did last night, while making love to you. The mere remembrance made you weak on the knees, “but my damned father made sure I will only have access to the total sum of my inheritance only when I have an heir of my own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a pretty chapter and my notes are getting lengthier and lengthier. Sorry xD  
> I feel a bit stupid, because I don't see many writers with such long Author Notes. However, it feels a bit impersonal when an author doesn't share anything with their readers, you know xD It's fanfic, it's supposed to be more personal than books, I believe...
> 
> Now, on to the chapter. I have to say I'm COMPLETELY fascinated with Lady Carise Sindian, so don't worry. She won't be someone to mess Hux x Reader relationship. They can do a pretty good damage by themselves. Lady Carise will have her own plot here. I don't think I can make her as good as Claudia Gray in Bloodlines, but I'll try. I don't think I do Hux that much of justice either, but... xD. 
> 
> It's just difficult to show, because everything is through readers POV, that's why Hux's reaction are always difficult to read and Reader every pain is increased tenfold. I think I'll have to put some scenes in other perspective here as well.
> 
> Well, I don't think I can update this weekend again. Guys, I REALLY have to write my master's, but I only keep lazying around. Scientific writing, although a pain in the ass, come easily to me, but I have to try harder if I ever want to get my PhD one of these days. So, my updates will be scarce from now on. I won't commit myself to update twice a month. If you follow me on my tumblr I'll be leaving snippets for this story and for Lie to Me as well. As LTM is easier to write, it'll probably have more updates xD Bear with me, pretty please?
> 
> Well, follow me on my tumblr: nymphl to get tuned on my updates and the edits I make for this story!
> 
> Take care and I really love you all!
> 
> PS: I'm almost done with chapter 11 of Lie to Me. I think I'll be able to update tomorrow.


	6. To resent a General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, darlings xD
> 
> I don't really know what to say and honestly, I didn't think I'd have this chapter ready to update. I actually meant to update it on March, 17th, on the occasion of the event "KissIrishHuxEvent" on tumblr. I only managed to make an edit xD
> 
> Honestly, I've reread and rewritten this chapter more times than I can count. But even if I had it done, it just didn't feel right? I didn't like the previous versions, but I'm not really sure of this one either... Well, you're gonna be the jury for me, okay? It's more about the findings of last chapter and how Reader is dealing with everything going on in her life. As always, it's about trust and how they talk - or don't talk at all. The smut isn't gratuitous, it's completely plot related *wink wink* 
> 
> My biggest thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter (Spacearistocrats, spaceginger, Bowieisawizard, cherryart, zahrah, IllegalCerebral, BruisedBluenana, David_Boowie). You guys rock! For everyone who left a kudo, a bookmark and hits, you have my gratitude as well. I love you.
> 
> Trelaney, I hope you do enjoy this chapter, cause this is a gift for you. I actually meant to have all three stories updated as a gift for you, when we last talked... It was meant to cheer you up, but I couldn't keep the schedule. Sorry xD
> 
> Happy reading! 
> 
> PS: I REALLY hope ao3 doesn't mess with the text formatting of this chapter. Does anyone know what's going on? It happens whenever I post a chapter TT

“THREE… TWO… ONE… THERE YOU GO, LITTLE LORD.”

You smiled as Lux positioned his chubby hands over the piano keys and played the brief song you had just taught him. He was a smart kid and learned fast. Part of you would rather if he did not catch onto things so quickly, as to delay his imminent parting as much as possible.    

“Well done,” you said, before pressing your lips lightly to his forehead. You knew Rae Sloane was watching everything with her attentive eyes as she read a book in the nearby ottoman. “Well done.”

As he continued to play, you let yourself think of Hux’s words. Of his whispered confession last night.

_My damned father made sure I will only have access to the total sum of my inheritance only when I have an heir of my own._

You remembered you reacted with a loud _What?_ and that you told yourself there was nothing to be surprised about. Brendol Hux would do anything in his power to undermine his own son — flesh, blood… those were notions the previous General did not give a damn about. If he could jeopardize Armitage’s standing, he certainly would.

The very thought made you bit your bottom lip in anger. You did not know which father was worse, if yours — with his prejudice and blatant disregard of women — or Brendol — with his dubious character and… well, you could also say blatant disregard of women and his own flesh and blood.

There were days in which you were grateful for having barely interacted with the man himself. And in most of them, you pitied Hux for having had to put up with him for almost three decades.

Bad character aside, Brendol’s actions posed a problem for both of you. Armitage had the money, he just could not use it until…

You sighed.   

And recalled Rae’s own words to you.

_…give him a damned heir…_

Well, it seemed now you had no other choice. It was either give him _a damned heir_ or watch him making a deal with Lady Carise — the devil herself. Borrowing money from a banker was completely out of the picture.  

_“Mama… Mama!”_

You were startled as Lux’s voice reached you. He had placed both of his tiny hands on your face, directing your attention to him. The piano keys — his recent fixation — completely forgotten.

“I am terribly sorry, Little Lord. I am…” You stopped yourself before you could lie. Rae cast a glance at you from her book, eyes narrowed. “Very much distracted today.”

He nodded, but his face hid nothing of his disappointment. You chewed your bottom lip; overcome with guilty, but feeling your mind racing with possibilities all the same. You had to find a way to get you out of this situation — to repay for his… _understanding._ To name it as kindness would be a bit too much.

The fact is… Hux had a meeting with his investors today — one in which he would be accompanied by Lord Mitaka — and only God could know what their reaction would be as soon as they knew how little profit the Arkanis Brewery would give them in the next few months — it is, if Hux found a way to pay for his debts. You admitted that in such devastating scenario, the was the _fastest and safest_ way to get out of this predicament, without leading him to compromise his candidacy for Prime Minister, would be to accept Lady Carise’s money.  

Nevertheless, you would have no way out if you did not get pregnant soon. Well, needless to say you were trying, but there had to be something else — _something faster and precise_ — that could be done.

With a defeated sigh, you messed his ginger hair. He ran his fingers through his tresses and stared at you with a scowl — to which you did your best to muffle your laughter. He was just too adorable when he was mad!

“ _Mama!_ And Lord Hux?”

“What about Lord Hux, _Little Lord_?” You pressed a lovingly kiss to his cherub cheeks and watched with amusement as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. He was indeed mad at you. 

Rae Sloane cast a glance at you; one that showed that in spite of her disapproval of Lux’s inappropriate behavior, she was still at least a bit amused with his frustration. 

“The violin, Mama!”

_Ah yes…_

He had been talking excitedly for a good few minutes — a few days now — about Hux’s violin — you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact Lux had actually seen his uncle playing the instrument. It had been years since _you_ last saw him near it — and you barely heard anything he said.

You sighed.

“I know you want to play violin, but listen to me, I myself don’t know how to play it and I’m not sure Lord Hux has the time to teach you.” 

His face fell.

It was obvious he had developed some sense of… _admiration_ to your husband. He worshiped him — honestly, Lux was a very lonely child and he had the tendency of looking up to anyone who paid him a measly few minutes of attention.

You left the bench and kneeled in front of him, adjusting his clothes and bringing him closer to you by his waistcoat.   

“But I can keep teaching you how to play the piano.”

He smiled. Begrudgingly, but he did.

“Now?”

You were ready to answer the both of you should get ready to have lunch and later — after you got some well needed time to send a message to your contact in _The Times —_ you could teach him a thing or two about the piano, but you were interrupted by the sound of someone opening the door of the drawing room.

Looking up, you were surprised to see your husband crossing the threshold. The boy beamed up as he saw Hux and he quickly left your embrace to run towards his new idol.

You rolled your eyes.

“I want your violin.”

“Lux Dameron!” Rae admonished him; her voice was harsh and hid nothing of her disapproval. “That’s no proper way to ask for anything.”

He lowered his head, ashamed and muttering a small, feeble apology. You could barely hear him saying _I’m sorry, Lord Hux._

Armitage, however, did not seem to mind the boy’s lack of etiquette. Blue eyes focused on you — and the intensity of his stare made you shiver; it felt as if he could read your thoughts and what you were planning… or thinking about planning… —, he dismissed Lux’s apology, “I’ll teach you how to play it one of these days.”

Lux looked up at him with adoration in his chestnut eyes. Your husband was doing a hell of good job of turning the boy against you and Rae. Firstly, he promised to teach him how to ride a horse and now… he promised violin lessons.

With a sharp intake of breath, Rae fixed her dark eyes on him, making Lux hide behind Hux’s long legs.

“Really?”

Hux nodded, dismissing Rae’s stare as if it meant nothing. You wondered how many times she terrorized him in his childhood — and how many times she did not act on those stares, if Hux treated it so lightly.  “Now, you must go with Lady Rae and get ready for lunch.”

“Yes!”

He was so excited at the prospect of spending more time with Hux, he paid Rae little to no attention — a fatal mistake if your memory did not fail you; Rae would probably ground him for the entire week and only you knew how terrible Lux’s mood got whenever he was banned from visiting the stables and his beloved friend horses, but at the moment, he did not seem to even remember how devilish Lady Sloane could be.

Accepting her hand, he followed her out of the drawing room humming to a childish song. You were ready to trail after them, when you felt your husband’s hand enclosing around your wrist.

“I never allowed you to leave, Lady Hux.”

***

A happy sigh left you as he brought your body closer to his and his lips fell upon yours in a slow, seductive kiss. He entangled his fingers in your hair — and if he did not know how to drive you mad with want, you would have scolded him for undoing your perfect hairdo — and angled your head for his better pleasure; his tongue running enticingly over the rim of your lips.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, and then slowly sliding them into his ginger locks — you almost expected him to trap your hands between his, but this time he did not seem to mind a disheveled appearance —, you gladly let him in, stroking your own tongue boldly against his.

He let you go after what seemed a good few minutes and pressed a kiss to your temples. You fought to reign in your breathing as he lowered his forehead to yours.

“I know what you’re thinking…” You wetted your lips nervously. “He isn’t a Dameron and you dislike seeing him being addressed as such.”

There was a minute of silence as you caressed his face.

“No. He isn’t,” he replied as he put some space between the two of you.

A tired sigh left your lips.

You could have pointed out he could never be a Hux — not if he wanted to become Prime Minister in the near future — and that he once hated his family name, but you understood what he meant. After Brendol passed away, the name Hux gained a new face: his — and later on yours —, and with it a new blank chapter; one he was willing to write differently, for the sake of his new family. And Lux is family.

Part of you wondered if the desire to recognize Lux as family came from the desire to right his father’s — _and yours too_ — wrongs. If not for you and Rae, his fate would be… probably worse than Hux’s.   

However, you both knew that if anyone just dreamed about Lux being his nephew and your little brother it would be the end of his aspirations. Your standing in the town would be compromised and no sane King would approve of him as the Head of the Parliament. And that position meant a great deal to Hux.

You walked to him, until you invaded his personal space.

“Would you rather if he were your son?” you whispered against his lips, but as soon as the words were out, you realized how stupid that question was.

He chose silence.

You swallowed.

“How did it go?” you said, trying to change the topic and get some control over the situation. “What did the board say?”

It was all it took for him to break apart. _Again._

You pursed your lips, trying not to let his actions get to you so easily. It was obvious he did not like to be further inquired on his meeting with his investors. It must have gone horribly if he was so against talking about it. That… or he did not like to talk about business at all.

Part of you understood where he came from. Most husbands did not talk to their wives about… _Well, they simply did not talk._ Most wives were there just for the show. Very few of them ran their estates and even fewer understood about business and politics. Even if they were interested in such topics, it was expected of them to shy away from them. Except for the Ton politics, noble ladies… Wealthy families, it is… they did not — _should not_ — waste their precious time with the intricacies of business and income… They just… spent money as if there was no tomorrow and in case they lost it, well… they simply gained it back through marriages.

An accomplished lady knew about dancing, playing the piano, embroidery… but never about income and basic taxation. And the few men who understood the intricacies of the business world, probably came from the lower classes, working class, as Armitage’s family did. Your father, for one, knew nothing of business. He ran his estate with the same regard he showed your mother: which is to say, almost none. When he realized he spent all his wealth on courtesans back in London, he decided to regain it at the gambling table.

But you were no trophy wife. You refused to be. You would not back down. Sitting beside him on the setee, you took his hand between yours. Slowly, you traced the gold band on his finger.

“What did they say, Armitage?”

He narrowed his eyes at you; a clear warning. You should tread carefully when looking for answers, pressing him would not do. You rolled your eyes. You were not scared in the least.

“We’re not having this conversation, Lady Hux.”  

You snorted.

“Well then, _Lord Hux_ , perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’ll tell Lady Sindian.”

He inhaled sharply at your words.

“Or you’re not having this conversation with me either?”

“Careful, Lady Hux.”

You knew you were playing with fire, but you were not about to back down. Not now. _Not ever._ You told him you were in this for real — you told him that if he wanted to be Prime Minister, he would need you and you stood by that. If he wanted to get out of this debt, he would have to start trusting you.

If he thought you would not understand about his business, the least he could do is to tell you about how he would approach Lady Sindian. He would have to be smarter than her with his excuses — a simply refusal would not do.

You knew and _he knew_ Lady Carise was dying to get back at your family — _at you_ — for years now. If not having you pressing your father to let you marry Armitage, she probably would be your stepmother now… _A Marquise._ Having Lord Hux owing her a large sum of money seemed the right way to go. It did not seem to you she would let such matter go that easily. Unless… Unless she had something else in mind to use against the two of you. Something bigger. _Something better._

That’s why he would have to be smooth. Lady Carise was not just any woman. Just like you, she did not bow to other men — she did not take _no_ for answer.

You were ready to inquire him further, when you felt him bringing your wrist to his mouth. Your heart quickened as got a brief taste of your skin. A gasp left you as he pulled you to him, forcing you to straddle his hips. His lips quickly found yours in a searing kiss. You knew what he was doing and even though you thoroughly disliked it, you would let him have his secrets.

 _For now._    

*******

You woke up later with a strong headache.

There was no need to look for Hux’s watch-pocket to know it was late afternoon — he had left you spent, and you slept more than you usually did whenever you took an afternoon nap — and that you had gone by without lunch once more. No wonder your head felt like exploding, yet you felt no hungrier than before. To your surprise, he was still by your side. But, this time, instead of relief, you were disappointed.

You left the comfort of his arms and rolled on your back.

“Ugh… Why is it so clear? And who’s playing Schubert?”

As expected, there was no reply from his part. There was no need to. In spite of Rae’s misgivings about the piano, she was quite proficient at it. She put many of the accomplished ladies of the Ton to shame with her skills — after five years living with you and seeing you practice, she became quite fond of the instrument, even though she would not admit it.

Since the two of you disappeared to your chambers before lunch, you imagined she would take it upon herself to keep Lux busy and out of your hair. By now, you thought the poor boy was probably sleeping in the setee, while Rae played to her heart’s content.

You closed your eyes — as if it could relieve the pain and ease the guilt —, but they quickly snapped open when Armitage moved over you, his nose touching yours and his breath caressing your face.

He kissed you.

Slowly.

_Sweetly._

A mere brush of lips.

“You worry too much.”

With a gasp, you let him in, stroking your own tongue against his. He let you dominate it — _dominate him_ —, not caring once more that you had slid your hands between his ginger locks. His fingers traveled the extension of your legs lightly, prying them open, so he could slide between them. He did not stop until he reached your hips, applying the slightest of pressures.

The kiss did not last long. He let go of your lips and moved downwards, placing open-mouthed kisses on every inch of exposed skin. Your breath grew heavier as he paid thorough attention to your throat at the same time his hands traveled upwards, in a quest for your breasts.

“We’ll be late for dinner.”

He paid little no regard to what you said. And in spite of what you said, you, too, could not care less about your lateness. Even the melancholic sound of the piano downstairs did not deter you from your quest for the astounding heights of pleasure you could reach together. A moan left you as you tried to move your hips, seeking the much-needed friction. He was so hard, and you were… _so ready_ to take him, you moved your hand from his shoulders and tried to reach his cock… Just to have your wrists trapped. You grunted in disappointment, but he merely lowered his head to your chest and pressed light kisses to the undersides of your breasts. Quite but never touching you were you needed most.

“I won’t beg.”

His lips tilted in the shadow of a knowing smirk.

A gasp escaped you as he placed a small kiss over your nipples. First, on the right breast and then the left. He did not take his time to worship them, however. He kept on lowering his kisses, going past your ribcages, your belly, your navel, till he reached your hipbone.

You pressed your lids together, waiting anxiously for what was to come. For a man who did not enjoy small talk, he surely knew how to put his mouth to better uses than to those of meaningless discourse.

Squirming in his hold, you tried to get your hands free — to fist the sheets, to grab onto his hair —, but he did not allow you to. His lips ghosted over the insides of your thighs — it was so light you could barely feel it. You arched your back, lifting your hips — offering yourself to him. He ran the tip of his tongue over your clit.

“Yes! Gods, yes!”

With a smirk, he drew away. His lips glistening with your wetness. You bit your own bottom lip, frustrated beyond measure.

“You won’t have me begging.”  

He ran his lips over your left calf, letting go of your wrists — to which you checked for marks and thanked the old-fashioned use of gloves; the General had a penchant for leaving you marked. With his left hand he held your leg close to his mouth and lazily pumped himself with his right hand.

You inhaled sharply at the sight. It was indeed a feast to the eyes. Armitage knew how to please your every sense — vision, hearing, smell, taste, touch… _none was left unattended for too long._

“Touch yourself.”

You bit your bottom lip, unsure. It is not to say that in the five years you were apart, you never sought to pleasure yourself — but to have him watching you was completely different. The intensity in his eyes made you warm all over. Your lids fluttered closed as you reached down, tracing your own thighs, approaching your center very slowly… outlining your lips… testing your wetness… quite but not entering yourself, as you knew he wanted.

“Look at me,” he whispered against your calf; his lips were almost on your knees, kissing the underside of it. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see them when you come.”

His words had you breathing deeply through your nose.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face and then sliding down… to the path of ginger hair leading to his engorged, beautiful shaft… Your mouth watered — you moaned — at the sight of precum oozing from his head.

Under his attentive gaze, you slid one finger inside of you and then a second; the heel of your hand applied a sweet pleasure to your clit. More than once, you thought about closing your eyes — the intensity in his blue orbs too much for you —, but as you lost yourself to the growing pleasure, you realized you could not shift your attention from how he stroked his shaft, timing it to the rhythm of the music. The feel of his lips, inching closer and closer to your center forced you to keep your eyes wide open and focused on him.

As the piece of music reached a crescendo — and you could swear you would never be able to play or listen to Schubert without reliving this very afternoon —, so did his movements — and yours too. Your breath grew heavier, beads of sweat pooled in the valley of your breasts, sliding down your skin. You were close and he knew it.

Armitage lowered himself on the bed and placed one of your legs over his shoulders; your hands were put aside. His heavenly mouth ghosted over your clit, his warm breath making you clench around nothing. This time, the thought of not begging flew off your mind as you uttered a broken _please._

With a smug smirk, he took your clit between his lips, sliding two of his fingers inside you. Losing no time, he looked for that sweet spot that would have you singing for him as he worked you towards an earth-shattering orgasm.

As it hit you — just a marvelous, indescribable feeling that had you arching your back off the bed and your eyes filling with unshed tears —, you sought his hair — to keep him in place or to pull him apart; you were so sensitive you thought you could not take any more stimulation —, instead, you felt the fingers of his left hand entwining with yours as he continued to lap at you; allowing you to ride your orgasm fully.

The piece came to a diminuendo and so did the movement of his fingers and his tongue against you, until they completely stopped. A deep, contented sigh left you as you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your legs were trembling; you were so weak you thought that if not for being laid over the mattress you would fall on your knees — exactly like last time when he ate you out against the door of his study. The mere remembrance made your face hot.

With the final notes, he entered you without warning.

Both of you gasped.

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth — letting you taste yourself. Part of you expected him to give you a moment to adjust to his size or at least to recuperate from the last orgasm. Instead, he set a punishing rhythm against your hips.

It did not hurt — and even if it did, you learned how to find pleasure in a bit of pain — but you were so sensible, the second wave of pleasure found you without voice. Your nails punctured his flesh as he sought his own release.

He was so worked up, it did not take him long to abandon the timed strokes. His mouth was against your throat, and broken moans and grunts escaped through his opened lips. You brought his hand to your breasts and he kneaded the pearls between his fingers, with his right hand he stroked your clit in a circular movement, to the point you were sobbing.

As your second orgasm came to an end, his own started. He pressed a kiss to your breasts, and you pulled onto his hair till a grimace of pain took over his features — exactly like he enjoyed. He grunted your name; his eyes fell closed as his hips jerked forward one last time.

It felt like ages had gone by as he emptied himself inside you. His lips worshipped the column of your throat and his hand travelled over your thighs in a slow, sensual caress as you both tried to recover.

His breath became normal before yours. He kept on placing small open-mouthed kisses to your glistening skin, whispering words you could not understand — or care less. Your eyes were heavy, and you were so tired all you wanted was to doze off at least a bit. He softened still inside of you, but you were so comfortable in such position, you did not want him to move an inch.

He did not.

“You should get ready.” He captured your lips lightly. You sighed happily. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Thank you, _my love_ ,” you whispered against his mouth. You pressed a light kiss to his lips, but he did not kiss you back. Your words had him drawing apart — it was impossible not to be aware that it was all because you addressed him in a novelettish manner.

Armitage slid out of you and sat on his side of the bed.

You bit your bottom lip.

He stared ahead. His mind, however, was distant. You closed your eyes, running your hands over your face, as if it would just erase what you just said; you heavily regretted your form of endearment.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His impossibly blue eyes snapped back to you. He breathed deeply through his nose.

“Think not of it. My mind is just busy.”

His words — so detached — coupled with his facial expression — so perfectly schooled —, made you flinch. You bit your bottom lip, realizing what you did not want to acknowledge before: whenever the two of you made love, his heart was not into it. He enjoyed the physical act to its fullest — he ensured you did too —, but like he said… his mind — _and heart_ — was elsewhere.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and sat on the bed, wrapping the sheets wrapped around your body. You seized the moment to introduce a topic you were dying to discuss with him a while ago.

“We should sell the estate in Southampton.”

His answer came quicker than you expected; his voice firm — not loud or authoritative, “Absolutely not.”

Coupled with how still his body went, you quickly understood he did not want to talk further about the topic. It did not mean you would concede defeat so easily, though.

“Please.”

You sought his fingers. He caught your wrist, running his thumb over your palm. He brought it to his lips, bestowing upon your knuckles a small kiss.

Biting your bottom lip, you focused your attention on his face. The slight tilt of his lips indicated he knew what he was doing to you and what exactly were your thoughts concerning it.

You snatched your hand away, focusing on the present issue. You spent a great deal of the afternoon being distracted — _fooled_ — by him. You dismissed it before, letting him have his way with you, but now, you could not avoid the politics and the sensitive topics concerning his imminent bankruptcy.

“Hear me out.”

“My answer is final, Lady Hux.”

The fact that he did not call you by your name indicated he really did not — _and would not_ — want to discuss such topic any further. Your shoulders slumped, but you did not concede defeat. Not so quickly. 

“That’s my house and therefore my decision to make.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. It was obvious he was getting tired of it. _Getting tired of your insistence_ — it was clear he was not in the least inclined to share a few things with you. His business was one of them.

And honestly, he was not wrong. _Actually, he was_ — but not legally speaking. According to British law, you were his property to do as he pleased and talking or not about business as his decision to make. Selling your house was _his_ decision to make — not yours.

How you hated being a woman most of times!

“Armitage.”

“(Y/N)”.

You rolled your eyes. He was going to make this hard for you — he could be very difficult when he wanted to. Displeased, you watched as he rose from the bed and slipped inside his robe. Shoulders down, your mind raced with possible arguments as you waited for him to go fetch his cigar and a glass of brandy.

It was needless to ask for him to pour some for yourself. As you were trying to conceive, anything alcoholic was out of the picture. And yet, you could feel your mouth watering at the mere thought of the amber liquid running down your throat.

After a few minutes went by, it became strikingly obvious he chose not to return to the bedroom. You slipped inside your robe, already sure he would admonish you for leaving the bed — the family’s physician had recommended for you to lie down after the two of you engaged in sexual relations; according to him, it would increase the chances of fertilization. Rae had rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but you were not one to disobey doctor’s orders that easily when there was so much at stake.

_However…_

This was an entirely different situation.

You were no expert when it came to finances, but after managing your father’s estate for five years, it was crystal clear the situation at the brewery was quite complicated — and it was you putting it mildly. He needed money — a large sum of it — and although a pregnancy and an heir would solve the problem easier than making a deal with Lady Carise, you were not so naïve as to think you would get pregnant that quick.

For that, you would have to count on luck and that was not something either could afford right now. That’s why you should convince him to sell your summer manor. That was the fastest way to solve the money problem without recurring to Lady Carise and her… _less than adequate intentions towards your husband._

The mere thought of the woman made your entire body shudder.

You did not trust the her. You never did. Not even when she was to marry your father and become your stepmother. Something about her smelled fishy. And, God, it was in no way jealousy.

There was just something about her… that simply did not sit well with you.

And when your guts told you to stay away from something or _someone..._ You would rather pay attention to it.   

You dismissed such thoughts as you tightened the knot at your waist and ran your fingers through your messed hair — in case you met a servant in your way. Nevertheless, there was no need to go that far, for he was in the anteroom. Back turned to you, he exhaled the smoke, before bringing the cigar back to his lips.

Carefully, you approached him, encircling your arms around his waist. He stilled in your embrace but did not move away from you. With a relieved sigh, you tightened your hold and leaned your forehead against his back.

For a moment, all you could hear was the cadenced beating of his heart. It was calm and so very comforting. He placed his cigar in the cinder-box and entwined his hand with yours. It did not take him long to turn around in your embrace and face you.

“We’re not selling the Southampton manor, (Y/N).”

You could have asked _why,_ but you were too tired for that. Suddenly, all you wanted as to get some sleep and forget that disastrous afternoon — dinner be damned. Aside the fact he could tell you he had a monetary problem — more likely he did not have a choice to begin with — it was obvious he did not want you having a part in solving it.

“I refuse to be the kind of husband that relies on his wife’s heritage to solve his problems.”

You snorted, ready to pretend you did not hear that. Or ready to ask him how it could be so different to borrow Lady Carise’s money, but not yours. After five years living only with Rae Sloane — a remarkably independent woman — and Lux — and a few servants _, of course,_ but they would not meddle in how you decided to run the house or your life — it was easy to forget how men behaved and how societal expectations weighed heavily on their shoulders. Truth is, Rae taught how much free a woman can be making her own decisions and you were not ready to give up on that.

Instead, you settled on, “I don’t want that _heritage._ It has brought me nothing but pain.” You realized your mistake as soon as he broke away from you, but now… Now you could not back down. You looked at him, at his impossibly blue eyes as you continued, “The happiest moments I have in that house are related to Lux.” _And Rae, of course._ But that was a given. Honestly, even if there were happier memories from the house, it was not something you could so selfishly hold onto in times of need. And this very situation configured as such, in your opinion. You just had to make Hux see that.

He nodded…

…and you breathed slowly…

… _relieved_ …

He was finally seeing things your way.

“The manor in Southampton is not to be sold. That’s final.” 

_Oh, dear God!_

With that, he brought the cigar back to his lips, his eyes focused on the quickly darkening sky outside. “Now, go get ready. I’ll wait you downstairs.”

Seething with anger, you bit your bottom lip, but decided not to give him the answer you desperately wanted. He was right, you should get ready. You should leave his presence and stay alone for a while, least you wanted to end up killing him.

*******

“Like this, _Mama?”_

You pressed a small kiss to Lux’s forehead and nodded. You were a bit distracted, but more focused on him than that morning.

“Yes, exactly like this, Little Lord.” A small smile blossomed on your lips as you ran your fingers through his ginger hair. He was very enthusiastic about you having dinner with him and later keeping him company as he played the piano. You dismissed his tutoress, giving her an earlier respite.

Part of you — the childish part — was dying to know how Hux reacted to your absence. Even though the Lady of the House could indulge in the luxury of having breakfast in her chambers, dinner was an entirely different story. And part of you — the part that was trying to behave like the grown woman you were — just wanted some peace and the opportunity to sort your thoughts.

Spending some time with Lux gave you exactly what you were looking for. Not to mention, you felt bad for neglecting him during a great deal of the last few days.

“Promise me that if you ever get married, you will listen to your partner.”

He stopped playing and removed his chubby hands from the keys. He looked at you with a confused face, as if he had no idea what you were talking about — and how could he? Lux was just four — sometimes it was easy to forget. 

“Never mind.” You placed both of his hands back on the keys and instructed, “Keep going, you’re doing great!”

Lux beamed up at your words — a genuine smile curving his lips and highlighting his dimples. You felt tempted to pinch his cheeks, but you knew he would get mad at you. And he was doing so well, you did not want to distract him right now.

“Rae is no fun,” he commented when he got bored of the melody you were teaching him.

You smiled once more.

Yes.

He was right.

Rae is no fun.

“Adults are no fun,” you commented, placing both hands on the piano and inventing another melody just so he could copy you and thus you could extend your time together — even though it was way past his bedtime.

“No! You are fun, _Mama!”_ His vehemence made you laugh a little.

“Lord Hux would probably say I’m no adult at all.”

And with your recent behavior, you could say he was right. And as soon as he knew what you did, he would be even sure of it. You bit your bottom lip, expecting him to chew you alive next day when he read the newspaper tomorrow morning.

_No._

You did the right thing.

If he was not willing to see things your way, you just had to force him to. You had done it before, and it worked. There was no way it would not work now.

“You should not speak for myself.”

Both you and Lux looked up to see the figure of your husband leaning against the threshold. He unfolded his arms and approached you in a few, firm strides.

“Lord Hux!” Lux exclaimed, shifting on his seat. He moved closer to you, giving space for Armitage to sit beside him.

“Lord Hux,” you acknowledged his presence with pursed lips. Not keen on talking to him in front of a small child — you still resented him for his behavior earlier —, you moved your fingers over the keys.

He seemed to think of it as an offer, for he, too, accompanied you in the music. After years of watching him playing his violin, you almost forgot how proficient he was at playing the piano.

Biting your bottom lip, you removed your fingers from the keys and rose to your feet. Still playing, Armitage looked at you with could almost pass as a surprised expression. You knew better.

“Let’s go, Lux,” you said, outstretching your hand. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“But _Mama—_

“Lux!” You did not let him finish his plea. At some point, you knew you would give in. “Come.”

“But I don’t wanna go,” he pleaded again, his intense chestnut eyes shining with unshed tears. He looked at Armitage, trying to get him on his side.

You sighed. 

“Leave him be,” Hux said in an even tone, even if firmly. “I’ll get him to bed later.”

“No.”

If he was not willing to share things with you, you would not share your authority over Lux. Besides your unwillingness to do as your husband said, it was very late, and Lux was tired. If he was irritated at the mere possibility of going to bed, it was because it was way past his time to sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, Lux climbed down the seat and walked to you, not taking your hand, but not completely dismissing it either. As soon as you opened the door, you spotted the governess walking down the corridor.

She stopped as she saw you and subconsciously adjusted her clothes. If you were not so mad at Hux, you would probably have smiled at her gesture.

“May I help you, Your Ladyship?”

You shook your head, but your husband was behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he forced you to step back to his arms. His hand over yours prevented you from breaking apart.

“Take Lux to his room.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, offering Lux a hand. The boy quickly took it, casting a final glance at both of you. “Come, Lord Lux.”

As the two of them disappeared in the dim lighted corridor, you stepped away from Hux’s embrace.

“If you kindly excuse me.”

Before you could even leave the room, he had closed the door and pressed you against it. You inhaled sharply but refused to look at him over your shoulder.   

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His imperative tone made you snap. You shifted in his embrace and raised your chin, “Why should I talk to you when you don’t show the same consideration to me?”

He did not reply, not immediately. With the back of his hand, he traced your jawline and with his thumb he traced your bottom lip.

“I hate you.”

“I thought we were past that,” he replied lowering his face to yours. As soon as you felt his breath so close to your mouth, you turned your face away from him, letting his lips brush your cheeks.

“We have never been past that.” You moved from under his arms and put some distance between the two of you. He was ready to follow you when you said, “Don’t touch me without my permission.”

He stopped immediately, his hands falling to his sides.

You looked away, your eyes full of unshed tears.

“I thought we were on talking terms now, but it seems I was mistaken.” You drew in a sharp breath. Pressing your fingers firmly against the fabric of your dress, you raised your chin again, “A word of advice, Lord Hux, if you want to convince the King to appoint you as Prime Minister—

His snort made you stop momentarily. However, there were a few things to be said, and be damned his unwillingness to hear them. 

“If you want to be Prime Minister,” you repeated; your eyes narrowed at him. “You should start talking to your wife. Your opponents will constantly do their best to put us against each other and I can’t simply take your side every time if I don’t know what’s going on through your head.”

He approached in purposeful strides. He forced you to release the fabric of your dress and placed both of your hands on his shoulders.

“They will undoubtedly do that,” he said, running his thumb over your cheeks. “And for your and Lux’s sake, you should be ready to turn on me _if_ the time comes.”

You furrowed your brows.

What was he talking about?

“A word of advice, Lady Hux.” He mimicked you, running his thumb over your bottom lip to prevent you from biting it. “Perhaps you should watch whom you make alliances with. Perhaps siding with His Highness won’t bring the expected results.”

Your eyed widened.

“It’s treason.”

He broke apart.

“It’s only treason if I get caught.”

You followed him, your mouth agape. That was a dangerous game — this one he was playing. When you reached him, you put your hand on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Armitage, hear me out, if you get caught—” You shook your head and lowered your voice. “No. _When_ you get caught, you’ll be hanged.”

He kissed the inside of your hand.

“That’s why you’ll have to make them believe you knew nothing.”

You shook your head.

He was not listening to you.

He was not _fucking_ listening to you.

“There was no meeting this morning with the board, right? You met with the Prince.”

He shrugged.

“The Kings is dying.”

“He isn’t dead yet,” you retorted. “Your personal interests should not interfere with those of the Crown. Listen, I know you want to become Prime Minister, but betraying your King will nev—

He snorted.

…and pulled your head back by your hair, exposing your throat to his lips.

“You don’t fool me, Lady Hux.” He brought his lips to yours. “You pretend your loyalty lies with the King, but I know you want this as much as I do.”

“Yes.” You replied breathless. “I want it, but I am being reasonable here while you are not. You’re loyal to no one, but yourself!”

Placing both hands on his shoulders, you tried to force him to break apart. His hand wrapped around your neck, applying the slightest of pressures to your windpipe.

“Yes… You’re right. I’m loyal only to myself.” He kissed the corner of your lips. “But what about you, Lady Hux? Where your loyalty lies?”

“With—

“Think carefully about your answer.” Your answer had his fingers tightening around your throat — not to the point of hurting you.  

You wetted your lips.

“With the Crown, obviously.”

“Why?”

He pried his fingers open a little bit, allowing you to draw in a breath and reply — you were not so sure he would not like to hear it, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

You bit your bottom lip, relieved that he seemed pleased with your answer. You thought about going on differently about it, but you knew he was talking hypothetically — just in case he was caught in his own game, something he did not plan on happening.

“Exactly, Lady Hux.” He kissed your throat softly. Next, his lips were upon yours in a brief — _so very sweet_ — kiss. After it was over, he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“You shouldn’t have to ask it. You know my loyalty lies with you. Because I lo—” You closed your eyes and drew in a breath. It was time you were honest, not only with him, but with yourself. “Because without you I can’t get what I want.”

“And what do you want, Lady Hux?”

Looking into his eyes, you replied, “Power.”

You loved Hux — you really did —, but you also loved the many possibilities a relationship with him represented. Knowing that he coveted — and could possibly be chosen — the position of Prime Minister opened a lot of those possibilities for you. You knew that without him, you would never reach a position of power — at least, not one like this.

“I want power.”

This time, his lips fell upon yours passionately. His hands slithered to your waist as he brought your body closer to his. You gasped, giving him the chance to slide his tongue over yours and deepen the kiss. He walked you back, till you met with the piano bench. He made you sit down, kneeling before you.

Biting your bottom lip, you drew in a sharp breath. He kissed your throat, his hand slithering under your dress to caress your thighs. You watched in awe as he removed your shoes and then your stockings. You knew that as soon as he touched your undergarments, he would find them dripping wet.

“Tell me what you want, Lady Hux.”

You allowed him to remove the offending article of clothing that kept his glorious fingers from you. Arching your back, you offered more of yourself to him.

“You. I want you.”

He removed his lips from your throat and shook his head. His fingers — _oh, so close_ — stopped their caress over your sensible, burning skin. 

That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

You drew in a breath…

…and wetted your lips.

“I want power.”

It was all it took to have his fingers caressing you in the way he knew you needed it and to have his lips falling upon yours in an overpowering kiss.

“And you shall have it. Power suits you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's all. As it is, this chapter is already too big xD  
> I can only hope it was to your liking.
> 
> So... I honestly see Hux betraying his superiors - in SW verse, the Supreme Leader - and in this AU, the King himself, to get what he wants. We'll see the developments of it in later chapters. 
> 
> For this one, I wanted to focus on their building relationship. There are great many things Hux isn't willing to discuss with Reader, to protect her, because she's a woman, because she's his wife, because she's no business partners are all valid reasons. Let's not forget Hux is a man of his time, so... of course he's sexist. It doesn't mean I approve of sexists behavior, but let's be honest here, we can't expect a man from 1815 to be marching down the streets shouting women should have the right to vote. And reader is at loss. They're not good with their communication skills... So while this chapter is about Hux hiding things from Reader, it's about she thinking hard to solve their monetary problem - she knows having a baby won't be that easy... 1815, remember? Most pregnancies didn't come to term and most babies didn't live past their infancy - and ultimately it's about Hux forcing Reader to see he'll do anything to become Prime Minister - will he stop at it? - and make her realize she wants power as well. 
> 
> Now, about Lady Sindian... Even though she was only mentioned in this chapter. Like I said in the AN of Lie to Me - for those who don't read that story, I'm gonna say it here too -, Lady Sindian is approximately Armitage's age. According to the wookiepedia, 2 years younger, but in this story she's older. Because I wan't to explore more of her character later and an older age will suit her better for my purposes. She's a key character to this story, so... pay attention to everything she does or doesn't. 
> 
> I think that's all... I hope you liked this chapter and what's to come...  
> See you... Whenever I can update.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all for today, kids!
> 
> Well, that was quite a long chapter, I hope you didn't find it tiring. Because of the length, I don't know if I'll be able to update weekly, but at least twice a week you'll see my updates!
> 
> I don't have much to say about this chapter, except that there'll be a lot to explain in later chapters, for now, it suffices to say Hux and Reader have a very strained relationship and that Hux needs an heir. 
> 
> Ah, about Reader's age... If any reader out there is older than Hux (34/35 years old), I'm sorry, but for the sake of historical authenticity and for plot related reasons, I made Reader 10 years younger than him. It's not much, if you consider that most arranged marriages at that time, the husband was sometimes 20 years (or more) older than his wife. And about Reader's hair... Also, as it was uncommon for women back then to have short hair... I decided to make it longer (how long, color, texture and other characteristics, is up to your imagination), I myself have short hair... so... 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> Stay tuned, tomorrow there'll be an update for Lie to Me!


End file.
